Kiran Chetry speaks out Notre Dame

Kiran Chetry speaks out Notre Dame

Now here is a young lady, Kiran Chetry, with some grit, guts, and faith. I am not a Catholic, but if I was I would put her on my shoulders and be proud of her—I even think the Pope ought to recognize her for her getup and go. Notre Dame University, I do not think cares for her rebellion against the establishment’s decision making process, and I can understand why. With the president of the United States coming to give a speech and get his Honorary, Doctorate, free of charge, is too much for some true Christians. To my understanding she is against only the honor, not the speech that will be given. That makes sense to me. I mean if the University is pro abortion, then fine, because this president is, and if the University is pro stem cell processing, fine again, but if it is against these things the questions comes up “Why?” What purpose does it serve to give an honor, to just have him come to talk? Perhaps that is a bribe: you come here, we give, and perhaps he has said already if I go there, what they are going to give me. It looks like Notre Dame has agreed underneath the table with the president’s policies.
Some young student said, in counter to Kiran Chetry’s voice against the president being honored, “Shouldn’t a good Christian even take in—with open arms—those who are apposed to your faith?” I do think that person was perhaps a none practicing Catholic, or Christian, one of the 49% that goes along with this honor at Notre Dame. Just because the majority agrees does not mean the majority is right, it means the majority have their own self-interests at stake, maybe they want to shake hands with the first black president. Or maybe they want to go down in history and say: I was there when the big man was there. But let’s be practical. What kind of message is Notre Dame giving here? It is telling me, in Jesus’ learning center we can bend rules for the Roman Emperor, and honor our enemy—and I do not mean the President is our enemy, he is not, but two of his policies belong to the devil, and we can’t honor the devil’s policy, is that not what Christ would say? It is one thing to put up with things we have no power over (the weeds are always going to be in with the roses), but when it comes to faith, and honoring Christ, is it not said, give to Cesar what belongs to him (and if your school and its faith belong to him fine, and it looks to me like it does), and to Christ, what belongs to him, give to him (and to be frank, if Notre Dame was blessed because of Christ, it may not be after this; they may have to find their blessings in the Oval Office). So is this Cesar’s house, or Christ’s house? What would Christ do? That is the question I think the school should be asking, not what the faculty wants. And is it not in Notre Dame’s interest to leave an everlasting mark on its students. This is a blemish, and for a real Christian, it will not go away so easily.

Two Poems: "If God were God" & "The Missing Page"

If God were God
((God’s Zodiac) (a Pseudepigrapha, poem))



Can God not make rain, morning and night?
If He so desires?
Are not the stars and the moon and the sun
In His hands—?
Does not God allow the spring to come and
Deprive the north winds to blow?
Does God not hear petitions and prayers?
(for rain and harvests?)
I mean, is he not the living God?
If God were God, we need no Zodiac; if He
Is not, who we claim him to be…?
Then man would do well to read
The Heavens in His place,
For prayer would no longer be
Necessary...!


No: 2606 4-29-2009
The Missing Page
(And the ugly angels)

Their faces were like leopards
Their tusks outside of their mouths
Like wild boars,
Their eyes circled with blood
Their hair like a woman’s
Fiery plagues in their hands
When I saw them, I feared
For my life…!
They were locked behind
Bronze gates and bolts
And iron bars
Fire was cast forth some
Fifty feet…!
There now stood before me
The angle called the Lionesses
Teeth like of a bear’s
Hair spread out like a woman’s
Body like a serpent’s
And it wished to swallow me!
Behind me now was a sea
Of flames…!
Eremiel appeared, ruler over the
Abyss and Hades,
He was the one who imprisoned
The souls of those at the end
Of the Great Flood!
“You are in Hades!” his echo
Told me.
“I am the prosecuting attorney,
The accuser of man
Before the Lord!”
I read his manuscript in
My own language…here was
All my sins, aggressions!
I wanted to rip it up
Then I ascended from Hades,
An angelic hand reached down
And pulled me up
He also had a manuscript
In hand, and a ring,
with the seal of the Lord,
upon his index finger
(it covered all languages)
He said, “Your name was found
On a missing page,” he had
Discovered just in the nick
Of time.

No: 2608 4-29-2009

Among us, Satan! (Poetic Prose, Part one and two)

Among us, Satan!
(Poetic Prose) Part I of II


As told by Ur’el the Archangel


Of ancient times, all the sons of God were present and Satan also, a part of the eternal mind. He came from time to time, to watch and see, to mock and be, among the light of heaven. He had chosen his eternal path, with the mortal dust on earth. He knew there was no darkness in the universe could hide him from the eyes of God; from whence he came from. Even the secrets of his mind, he could not hide “What moment was mine?” he said and so he separated his mind, whirled it away hid it in the stream of change. There to empty it.

In the interim, He was bragging, feeling he had more knowledge of man than God, and God not admitting it. Satan told God, face to face, near, should to shoulder, “You are disconnected with man, and you created him.”

Among men there was no question of the existence of God, or Satan, only the reason God allowed an evolution to take place of man’s notion of God allowing Satan to plant innumerable gods on earth in his place. In of whom certain characteristics of Satan himself were similar, and the abstract gods concrete and complete, in variations, traversed the earth. Perhaps God knew the animal in man, wanted to become a god. And Satan fashioned his means, to meet his end.

And so it happens that Satan set up his own little stage being less concerned with God’s. And Satan said:” If I am Evil and as you see, the people are on equal, not opposite ways with me on earth, why do you or your angels go forth and put no stop to this?”

God looked at Satan, said “You never did understand, who seeks to establish the truth of something has already assumed by translating the dramatic action of his fellow followers, fulfils his own fascination, it is the logic of appearances, as opposed to the logic of true forms. We are characters to man; on the other hand, you are a tragedy to many and so revealed in your retributive fate. You are in, what I created a natural process of law, indifferent to those who oppose it. You are the spectacle of suffering as the effect of evil. And you think you are in the mind of God, and you are not. I can know things, and not know them. Knowledge is knowing of, and not knowing of. Is it possible for me to doubt? (Satan couldn’t answer that) How can man be made perfect, without knowing evil? Man judges himself, as he oppresses himself. If I reduce you to insignificance, it detracts from the design of things. You are here Satan, but you are not here. If you were to be remoulded you would be naught, you would be doubtfully useful, and you are who you are. If you have any reality at all, it is to your own world, and since that is a world that resists Good, you will be left with your kind where its nature is unaffected by its duration. The time will pass from one point to another, without taking time, this is your end. Your greatest act is in traversing the lesser acts of mankind to carry them along with you—co-ordinating your Army to help. You have one act—evil, and you do it with a wanton delight, glorifying its own activity. You see man as mere matter, forms. I see them as for the perfect form, the divine form, within time without end, which I seek to extend throughout space. In the long run, you are only the surface, determined already by your acts. The inflicted by you maybe of a great mass, but they can be purified, you cannot.”

“So much you know,” said Satan to God, “you dare not make me your equal!”

“You seek something that can never be; you stood outside of time, before I created time, because I created you so. Not like man. You stand in front of me double-faced, and try to make me believe you have forgotten your choice, the act you took to change and be divisible. And offer to man, your act, all that you are, you are only a moment of friction! No more. An impact on a material world; this strange reverence men pay to you for a moment of fascination is out of fear and to duplicate it, to learn the evil in life, and use it, against the weak and helpless things. Earth is your throne, when evil comes, where you can divide and separate it at will. Judge it to be as you wish. But what it is like, is you, a fluctuating tide, that comes in for a short period of time, and gathers up its lusts, and goes with age out to the sea to die.”



Satan’s Ghosts
Part II of II

(Ur’al’s Immortal Youth)


It was of ancient times, when Satan and God stood face to face, and near, shoulder to shoulder, and I stood far back, by the Golden Gates of Heaven, and its silver plated pathway, when I overheard this conversation. I Ur’el of immortal youth; It was a time when men understood the tongues of animals, and could speak to them on earth. It is all but forgotten now, and put into tales. It was a time when the earth was covered with shades, and trenches were dug to make sacrifices of bulls to drain their blood in those wide trenches, to drink their blood to the demigods, Satan’s horde, to the Henchmen of Hell, and all, to gain immortal youth. A strange time indeed, and there were many who lived among the ghosts of earth, said they were, for they could not be touched, and when the wind came, they were blurred faces to the living. They were vapour drifting over desolate marshes. There was more than one death back in those far-off days, and this ghostly death, left them blind with grief, to live and be dead among the living, and to watch the living, live in the dead, the ghosts of Satan’s handiwork, not for all but for some; for there were others who chose this end, for a time being, and those who had no choice.


4-16-2009 (No: 2593)

"Being Average!"

“Being Average!”


I was a young man who dreamed about simply being an average person, while alone walking up that old dirt road to school in back of my house. In those days, I could feel the Lord walking with me, a garden angel at times. And now after 61-years old that boy has not yet left me, not completely, and I was never unlucky, thank goodness, in that I ever felt alone, I always knew the Lord, Jesus Christ was by my side, always, He once told me because I didn’t have a father, “Don’t worry, I be your father.”
I was thin, and gaunt with deep emotions, and when I got in my first fight, four boys beat me up, I ran home to tell my mother about it, and she said, “You better get some muscles, and learn how to fight, or run.” And I did, I weight lifted, ran in track, and learned karate. I was as white as a ghost, got some summer tans and learned how to flex my muscles so a few girls would be interested in me, and kept the bullies away, or at a distance.
I wasn’t a quick learner, and that left some mental scars in me. Although I was creative, I could draw just about anything, learned how to play the guitar at ten-years old, and started writing my poetry at twelve-years old. And none of these scars would stop me in life, matter-of-fact, they were my catalyst. Now they are old scars, erosion on them, fleshless. Everything about me was different than those around me. So I felt.
My eyes were the same color of the sea, my hair the color of autumn leaves, my physical build at fifteen was like Bruce Lee at twenty-one. At nineteen, I learned Karate in St. Paul, and then headed onto San Francisco at twenty, to learn from the Masters.
“Chick Evens,” Gosei said, the Karate Master, 6th degree, said to me as I had used up all my money to travel to the city by the bay across two-thousand miles, and couldn’t find a job, “Here’s some money, it will tie you over until you find a job,” Gosei said in a most humble voice. And he taught me the fine art of Goju Kai Karate, within that interesting year I spent in the city.
“No,” the Master said. “You are young, do not keep drinking, and do not hurt anyone with your skills.”
I remembered that all my life.
“I got to go,” I told him. I was drafted into the Army. “I know,” he said, “you are not leaving because you want to.”
I was still a boy mentally in a man’s body, and I followed my longing, whatever that was, it seemed to change every mile of my life, and traveling was part of it. Actually at this point of my life I had lived in Seattle, and Omaha, and of course those are interesting stories in themselves, but we must move on.
Gosei had a lot of faith in me back then. Actually it appeared to me, he made it look normal. So I was normal. But all I ever wanted to be was average. Like everyone else, because I felt different than everyone else.
My curse was the drink, and I drank like obsessed fishermen, fish. Like women comb their hair, constantly; like children chasing a dog, unwaveringly. Between drinking and sleeping, I did more drinking.

In the Army, in Basic Training, they did not show me much in the art of body building and karate, it made me feel superior, which made me feel for a while, average to everyone else. But because they could do what I could do, I demand respect; they did now show it politely. I learned successful people, lose friends. I would have to learn how to deal with this.

In the old neighborhood, the guys would ask me to play baseball. I really tried to avoid it, or football. I never liked hanging out with my male relatives, as my brother did, I often said, when they invited me, and they did not invite me much, “I would like to go,” where I never know, while visiting their houses, my aunts and uncles, but I’d end up going for a walk by myself. I knew they didn’t care for me to be their in the first place, nor did I care even going over there; it was a demand from my mother.
I suppose they thought I was a strange young man (boy), my uncles and aunts, and cousins and so forth; but I am a strange old man now, I think so, and they still think so, and so I must have been. My brother’s kids feel the same way, and my kids feel that way, they like putting everyone in boxes, as if they are bait, their bait, subdue them with a club, and get the big fish.

Slowly I cut that net over my head, and went to college, quite drinking, got degrees more than I ever thought, they called me Doctor now. Wrote books, traveled the world, and made a million. I asked myself, “Who can do that? Do you think you can find someone at my age who is a poet laureate? Can I order one?” Well, I was feeling average now, but it took a long time. It wasn’t easy. We start out as kids, and we work on our baggage all our lives until we get it tidy.
I never leaned on any ones shoulders, they were all strange to me, I thanked God, the Lord, Jesus Christ, I leaned on him, his were the only ones, oh I suppose I could say my mother’s a few times, I think so. And I always felt I should give Him something more than a belly full of complaints, so I didn’t complain much in life, I did drink a lot of bottles of booze though. Smoked a lot of cigarettes, three packs a day and I leaned on His shoulders one day, twenty-five years ago, and said, “You’re God, you stop this mess, I mean you take the edge away please, and I’ll stop the motion for grabbing it.” So I put three packs of cigarettes by my bed stand, and never had the desire to smoke again, same story, say ending with booze.
I’m really now just an old man, with no dirty habits, all washed up you might say, for the killing, to put me into the stew.
I have much more than I deserve, a few houses, money in the bank, lots of Ginger Ale, and so forth. I know it was a great mistake to start drinking and smoking, but after I stopped I felt more normal, more average, it all makes a difference. I have learned by sticking it out, pushing ahead, not stopping because someone says, ‘you can’t’ is a bunch of bull…! Misery wants company.
They’ve stopped, that’s the problem, and they don’t want you to pass them up. The best revenge is success. I’ve been married four times, I never get revenge, just more successful, and they say, “How come he’s…?” And so forth and on; I’ve also learned to take charge of my life, when you let someone else do it, that is exactly what they do, and it is never, never ever for the better (unless it is your mother), because self-interest dominates.
So through all my trials and tribulations, I became average, and to be quite honest, you can’t do much better than that, and if you can, your blessed, double blessed, and thank God, or the devil, because the devil believe it or not, tries to duplicate God’s works, but he’ll never work against himself, so I know who has helped me.

3-30-2009

The Agliarept Code (Can a Demon Read your Mind?)

The Agaliarept Code
(Can a Demon Read your Mind?)


Agaliarept, the Henchman of Hell, one of two of Satan’s most treasured demons, also the grand general of Hell and commander of the second legion; he seems to spend most of his time, according to scripture and legend in Europe and Asia Minor, and has to a certain degree, the ability to control the past and future. That is to say, he possesses the power to discover secrets inside of man’s brain, and with this, he has become quite infamous for stirring up enmity and distrust among the human race. But how does he do this? For even demons are subject to God’s laws. You are about to read, “The Agaliarept Code,” and find out his secret.

Agaliarept, he searches the hippocampus of the human brain, which is near the center, lower back part, here he searches into the living files, images to be printed, or in the process of printing, or those already printed at that moment, in secret memory, some remain dormant in storage, not verbalized he recalls them through a process which is under the code name: SDRC.
He is one of the few demon who has the skill, and ability to recognize several reality environments in the brain at one time, and discernible functions to sort out the patterns in the brain; an example might be, darker to brighter; an area with less or more activity than others. Thus, once discerned, he can signal in his findings to his legion, where, when and how certain things will come about.
His thoughts can ride on top of our neurons, like a man in a saddle on a horse, this allows him to monitor our activity as we move about and consequently read our mind.
That is where his prediction, or his predictability that is, comes from, and where his process adheres to, he now is into our reality environment, and can direct his demonic forces accordingly to the encoded memories, and proceed to structure the down fall of a person.
He has allowed his system for thousands of years to continue to be trained in this area.
On the other hand, he does not have omnipotent powers, making him all-powerful; those who are aware of this and who fight against it (through prayer and a close relationship with Christ or God), seem to block the decoding process, breaking down the functional structure before it’s completely in place.

3-12-2009

Dreadful Marches to Delighful Measures (a short story on a gay movie)

It was near lunch time and the actors now had stopped their scenes, and they were sitting in the lunchroom, in chairs that were alongside two rows of tables, two tables to a row, ten people to two tables, twenty actors total. They were waiting, doing nothing but waiting to see what was going to happen with their movie project, their production of: “The Summer of Content.”
“Will you have coffee, wine, soda or perhaps a gimlet,” asked Orve Nelson, a middle aged male waiter to Wolfsan Howe, the main movie star (actor) and the supporting actor, Elmer Oxford.
“I’ll have some red wine,” Wolfsan Howe told the waiter.
“And I’ll have the same, I hope it helps,” said Elmer Oxford, with a sneer.
“And for you Mr. Allen Lee Hawley, what will you have?”
“I guess it is the thing to do as we wait, so how about a dark cup of coffee, with no cream or sugar please, ok?”
“Yes, ok sir, Mr. Hawley,” Orve Nelson replied.

The other waiters, three, were walking around the two rows of tables and taking orders while the cook nearby was cooking soup and making ham and cheese sandwiches for the un-expectant brunch.
The windows were open to allow the breeze to circulate throughout the cafeteria, it was on the second floor of a building in the Castro District of San Francisco, and it was a very warm day, in the summer of 1968.
“It’s been half an hour, I wish they’d make up their minds what to do,” said Wolfsan.
“A new start would be plenty I mean, redoing the scenes Allen did, since he can’t perform them lousy two, I mean just two scenes in the whole movie and it has stopped a multi million dollar production, unbelievable, and not to mention, but I will, a first of its kind!” said Elmer Oxford.
“Well, Mary April Steinberg come all the way up from Hollywood just to oversee this meeting, she’s the new assistant to the president of the studios,” said Wolfsan.
“How are you feeling Allen?” asked Elmer, in a sneer.
“Absolutely fine, thanks for asking Elmer.”

Wolfsan was trying hard not to take any position in the first hour of the shutdown, of the production, he was paying more attention to what kind of soup the cook was cooking. Most of the other actors were not demonstrating their position of the shutdown, do to Allen, they were getting paid one way or the other, and whatever they were thinking they were not voicing their opinion, it would seem they were having reservations on both sides of the coin. Allen Lee was unmoved by his stubborn position in holding up what he called a level of integrity and a value system he had learned long ago, in schools, that he had said earlier: no longer taught the ten-commandments, or pledge allegiance to the flag, he believed society had lost its will to uphold the values it once had, and in the process came a declined to a degenerate position in America as well as around the world; that they expected him to bend his religious values for a movie, and profit, which would make him a hypocrite to his long known associates, and the fellowship he had at his church, therefore he could not alter his life for them, nor would for a movie that would show him contrary to his beliefs, and forever brand him.
This was Allen’s first film, he was sixty-one years old, who had previously worked as Probation and Parole Officer for the State of California. In between, he had written three books in this area, along with three books in poetry, and three books in short stories, nine books sum total, of which were not doing too well in the sales department.
For the most part he was retired. His wife had passed on a few years earlier, and his two sons were in the Armed Forces, one in the Marines, the other an Army Ranger. He was embarking on a new career, Gilmore Gleason, his lawyer, also the lawyers for Wolfsan, and Elmer, as well as the Director, Sean Winslow, and Mary April Steinberg, the Assistant to the President of the Studio, he had used his influence to get Allen started in the movies, and under his contract, Allen did not have to do any acts or scenes that violated his religious beliefs, or values, and he was an active Baptist, in good standing, and so his reputation proceeded him, and no one could have proven any different.
“You got your point across to April I see Mr. Hawley,” said Elmer Oxford, “and It appears by the lengthy meeting they’re having in the other room, a damned fine one.”
Allen Lee looked at Elmer quickly. He was an extreme handsome and well kept man, and of a social position which commanded thousands of dollars as a price for his endorsements. Just his autograph alone was worth close to $500-dollars, whereas, Wolfsan’s perchance, in the three-hundred dollar area.
Elmer Oxford, had never been married, and his sexual preference had been in question, among the public, on the other hand, Wolfsan Howe, was married, but was a playboy and everyone knew this, and some questioned if he was bisexual, especially now that he was making this gay movie, with such big time stars as himself, and Elmer, and with an international audience waiting, and a big Studio backing the project up, to be released out of Hollywood.
Allen looked at both these men as if they were strangers to him.
“Wolfsan,” asked Allen, “handing him a napkin, “how about your autograph?” Wolfsan took it reluctantly and signed it. He was about middle height, with extreme icy cool green eyes, dark charcoal black hair, a little mustache, timed thin, and a pink fleshly face, also a handsome man, like Elmer. On the other hand, Allen had pale white skin, with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, a square jaw, strong looking, but aging, as he was, and when he smiled, those wrinkles became deeper. His shoulders had started to slope, his chest sunk, although he looked several years younger, a nice looking man, and perhaps quite handsome in his younger day, by the looks of his features.
“Well, here’s the signature,” said Wolfsan, with a half smile, handing it over the table to Allen.

Elmer was very tall, well built, a light reddish full crop of hair, combed back like in the days of the Roaring Twenties, with lots of grease on it, combed back, his cloths were loose fitting and safari style.
The parts Allen had walked away from were, first: where he was expected to kiss Wolfsan, and Elmer would come in through a door, find them embracing and this would create a hornet’s nest between the three. The second part of the plot, and ongoing theme, and scene was for him to take a shower naked with Wolfsan, this also he refused. And consequently, started the whole shebang; and as we now can see, Elmer is unhappy, if not trying to make Allen feel guilty for tying up the production, but Allen doesn’t feel guilty, or at least he is not indicating so at this time, and that also irritates Elmer perhaps even more.
“Here’s to you Allen,” said his antagonist, Elmer Oxford, “I’ll have to have a talk with Jimmie Henry.” (Who was a friend of Allen’s and personal lawyer.)
“He should be in his office about now,” replied Allen, in rebut.

Mary April Steinberg, came out of the meeting room, looked at Allen, Wolfsan, and Elmer, “Let’s not get angry about the situation,” she said in a calm even tone voice, the other eighteen actors all turned about looking at her, stopped drinking their drinks, and listened up as if she was the commander and chief, Elmer, put his chin in his hand, and a frown on his face.
“It’s been a very strange day,” she commented, “you folks ought to have some soup and sandwiches, its noon already.”
“Don’t put it off April,” said Elmer, “what gives?”
“You know Elmer, what gives! You have a very red face also, I hope your not drinking too much wine, we got a movie to produce today,” she responded with authority.
“Drunk,” said Elmer, “no, I’m not drunk,” he commented, “I’m angry, annoyed, irritated, all that and more!”
“Must be racial,” said Mary April, to Elmer looking dumbfounded at her.
“I say would you like to drop me as the supporting actor also?” he rebuked.
“Don’t get me started on it, unfortunately, if you don’t know by now you should, we’re all replaceable.” She said, adding, “The conversation in the meeting room was most difficult.”
“Don’t be funny,” said Elmer, “get to the point—please!”
“No problem Elmer, I just want to be politically correct here (Wolfsan looked at Mary, Allen and Elmer, he had seen it coming, and dreaded it).”
“I wish this had not happened, oh yes, I do wish it hadn’t, but it has and it looks as if by forcing, or trying to force Allen to do what his religious principles are against we could be involved with a breech of contract, and this can lead into much more. We could offer him more money, but I think that is fruitless, (Elmer’s shoulders start shaking, everyone else is tightly holding onto their table’s edge, listening), so we have a check for Allen, for $45,000 dollars, his total fee for all the scenes, it is better we make a clean break. And we have a younger actor on his way here this very minute, and we will redo 30% of the prior scenes, where Allen is in them, and that will be that.” Said Mary April.
“Nonsense,” said Elmer, “forget the whole thing and just let him go, he’s nothing to anyone of us, except more work, something he might try, and plus he’s a bad actor.”
Then Elmer grabbed the two signature cards Wolfsan had signed for Allen, and ripped them up to shreds, in front of him, and Mary. Elmer then looked at Wolfsan, and so did Allen, and Wolfsan, put his pen in his pocket.

They all sat there in the warm cafeteria, filling their glasses with coffee, wine, a few beers, avoiding one another’s eyes, while the cook brought the soup and the waiter the bowls to each and every person, and the ham and cheese sandwiches.
Mary April could tell Elmer’s comments had incited the others, but not to any high degree, but to a certain uncomfortable level, one that provoked animosity, and perhaps future gossip; Wolfsan turned away from looking at Allen, and even Elmer, he was sitting on the opposite side of the table in front of them, now to the side, he had a blank if not indifferent face.
“What were you going to say Allen,” asked Elmer, in a cocky tone.
“Nothing to you,” he told him with a smile, and good eye contact.
“Why’s that?” asked Elmer as if he wanted to show his comrades how witty he could be.
“It’s quite unnecessary Allen,” exclaimed Mary, “it doesn’t weren’t any explanation.
“I will say a word to you on the matter, he’ knows better, yet he protests; anyhow I was going to say…” started Allen.
“Yes,” she said, “were all taking a beating over this, aren’t we.”
Everyone looking at Mary, Allen and Elmer, with discontent faces, the drive (morale) now dropping considerably,
“Yes Allen, what were you going to say?” asked Mary.
“Are you married?” asked Allen
“Why yes,” said Mary with a smile.
“Do you have children, and do you love them?”
Her face was showing a little discontent with the second question, but she said, “Of course I love them, very much so, why do you ask such question? (there was a long pause) I have two children.”
“Would you die for them?” asked Allen, looking at all the curious faces around the tables.
She bolted like a rabbit to the question, looked at him coldly, she had not expected this kind of cross-examination, but because of the situation, and all the faces looking at her she answered “Without a doubt.” She replied, “Now can we get back to a normal way of conversing?”
“How beautiful that is,” said Allen, that brought a new smile to her face, the other actors seemed to be a little more at ease with the statement, but still in suspense where Allan was going with this kind of questioning.
“Are you now feeling better, Allen?” said Elmer.
“Oh much,” said Allen, “but let me finish please, don’t interrupt!”
“It would seem to me Mary, you could and do understand how much I love Jesus Christ, because like you, I’d die for him, and I’d not want to offend Him,” he looked about, “and I’ve asked no one here to love my God, or take on my values, they are mine, if I do as you say, you will have changed me, the very thing this movie is about, and as far as this experience today goes, it’s been like a dreadful march but it has brought delightful measures.”


Written 3-6-2009 (taken from a morning dream)

The Earth Dethroned (poetic prose)

The Earth
Dethroned



The earth, like the people on it, are like a train, Sebastian, told himself as he was traveling from St. Paul, Minnesota, to Seattle, Washington, and it is going in one direction, he noticed, and they think all is smooth he conclude (and so was earth going in the same direction): “Yes,” he said, “they think all is going well,” then he murmured to himself: “The thing is, it is not so, it just seems so, because they, like me, can’t tell one way or the other, if they are moving on this train or not.” Further, he said, “There are only a few folks who look out the window, now and then, if there were more, they’d all know we are headed towards a blockade.
Now, the earth moves the opposite way (it was originally moving in the first place), and the train is still moving in the old same (from its previous unaltered state), but the push against the train is now felt from the opposing force, something is moving against it instead of with it, the train accelerates, to fight the force.
Sebastian now agrees with his second self, (that person inside of us we seem to talk to, but never acknowledge to anyone but ourselves, and we never give it, or him or her a name) and he hears (listens to) the man in the seat behind him say: “…we have two forces and two systems, in progress here, Lord in Heaven what can we do. Because of its iron mass, the train doesn’t feel the opposing force that much, nor the folks inside the train. Nonetheless, it is there.”
The conductor tells the people, “…it is just a matter of time, and we’ll be to our destination, don’t worry.”
Sebastian, is worried though, and seemingly, it appears the man behind him is worried, in that, perchance, the train will not stop in time, hit the blockade before it stops at its destination, the train station that being, rather hit the blockade just beyond it, the train is going too fast, fighting the forces around it.
Sebastian, He sees out the window a black ray of light, ghostly and haunting, it seems to stop and plant itself right then and there, as if his window was a hole in space for it to seep through, and then as the train moves on, it shows up on the other side, so he notices (the opposite side of the train that is) the other end. He tells himself at this point, “I’ve learned something because of this, perhaps man can bend fate, or stop it for a moment, and that there is a gap between this and that, a gravitational gap some folks might call it, he calls it “hope” he feels someone, or something, has to curve man’s mind, like light, and speed, and you will find peace.
“Is this possible?” he whispers.
In any case, he concludes there was a gravitational field, that deflected light, this was his big break to creating peace, a lasting world peace, his so called stepping stone to his new theory.
As he sat back down in his seat in his cubical, he had to rethink what he had figured out, what was all this dependent on, for it surely was dependent on something? “Oh yes,” says the man behind him, “one person was really and solely dependent on the other,” so they both now concluded. “Yes,” said Sebastian, “we are in essence, one entity, and without God, we would not exist, God being the glue.”
Then Sebastian got rethinking his rethinking:
“What went wrong that caused God to create the flood?” In a way a rhetorical question, because he was questioning himself. That is, a question he had to answer for himself, at best it would be conjecture.
“It was not the situation, which was the flood,” he murmurs out loud, the man behind him hears, “but the problem, it was the problem no one looked at, which is always under the surface of the situation. It was perhaps the folks back then lived longer, and thus could build trains that had the maximum velocity of light, the speed of light that is (figuratively speaking), which is the total momentum of anything in the universe. That they were moving so fast, faster than the second-hands on the moving clock, faster than time, for example, the clock decreased to a standstill, accordingly, one was increasing as the other decreasing, as a result, there appeared simultaneously, unmeasured sin.
Next, He assumed, God might have—whom feel knows all— evidently didn’t take this into consideration, or if he had, he deduced from his hypotheses, and reformulated a living system, family members and so forth, would fellow what he observed, so he gave mankind good examples to go by, social comparison—if you will, yet he did not see, nor witness that mankind had obtained identical behaviors, consequently, irrespective of those he sent to set an example, therefore, he had to shorten life, because they didn’t follow the good example, matter of fact, he even said (referring to mankind’s sinful heart), “I never even imagined this…” so now, he limited man to 120-years of life, not 960, as it had previously been. He even developed a new theory, to slow man down, because he was going at such a rapid velocity, or pace, from good to bad to hatred of his own kind, to evil, and beyond, he broke the magnetic phenomena, known as one language, into propagation, or spread man’s tongue out, to a thousand different languages, that accelerated around the world.
Then God said, so Sebastian, concluded, “The faster you go, the quicker you come, to Armageddon, or in the case of this train, to the blockade.”
He knew it could be postponed—just as the train might be able to be stopped at the transition, if indeed he could lower the speed (in God’s case, or humankinds, that amounted to sin) and that was his theory, that being, the Earth Dethroned from mankind, and given back to Christ, to the point of man repenting.


2-2-2009 (No: 2561)