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| Breif:Inner City, Christian Living -The State We Live... |
The State we live: A mental and social walkthrough the streets of post-modernity as I live it. It's a local thing. "Indeed there was more real love, understanding and kindliness in the deserts than in the cities where then as now it was every man for himself." From: Thomas Merton A twentieth century monk in Wisdom of Desert The State we live. Born after the Second Vatican Council where the remains of moral-certainties and civic-authorities were all divided of, and remade out of place, for the modern-day-people of the now from then to my generation, to live off their decisions without much of our consent. There is no head here I am the bait, to the other end of the choices I will make in days. There has never ever been a time in past history when the order of Divine and Moral authority have been so shoved aside, for even small children to see that only a few volunteers are left for the work that was well preached, true charity. Changes were made in that (1965) Council, changes needed to be made for a body like that which governs over so much and tries to touch all to keep in pace and still influence in this modern day. Keeping in pace was one question, but its influence I see around me does not match the irony I live. Decisions were created on my social and communal behalf and like others deciding how we should relate to one and all for the council’s body to work in effect. Except I see that to live on the decisions made from the council in practice to the every workman’s day is like constable seen without his uniform it takes on no form. I haven’t read a Vatican encyclical in a while in fact most I know have never, ever read. Making it hard for us to tell what the latest word of wisdom is, and the current state of affairs are for us as a family to digest and to put into our Daily-Christian/Civic-Lives. Meanwhile the city’s neon billboards with their re-occurring slogans, get, buy, and have drill themselves into our dark centres making clear the “world order” of our days-“the market force.” The supplying "market" forces are making our decisions on what to buy and what’s hot, what to wear and what not, and where to always wear it. Our every choice seen and recognised is theirs to claim, paste and shell. “Sex Sells,” they taught me in college, so our blood-cells then boil to a maximum, as the pleasures of our eyes ferments the desire. The desire in our hearts to connect to one another. The way we see it the way it is sold, the way they give it, they fake it bold. They teach it with joy like it needs no skill. They paint it like a mouse-trap closing in for the kill. Most love the thrill to play with their bodies, to experiment with their bodies till there bodies make it ill. There are mixed signals as there are mixed cultures, all swinging to and fro, complimenting the mixed buildings and the mixed structures inhabited then afterwards sold. The leftover Victorian statues suit well for my strained muscles to lean on, before more trees get chopped down and taken over by new-wider models of a British-Telecommunications phone booth. Communication among the folk seen here is rare, but by the assistance of a little mechanism in one’s hand to other one far off I see us speak. I see us speak of things the latest things that tomorrow will bring as if it were here, while we grow and continue to grow speaking the same not having it gained. I see us speak of things the passing things as we walk as we go, things we have not seen the places we have not been but wish to be where we don’t know. All the while we constantly shop within this rotten metropolis where if I travelled away for three months the local pharmacy would be overthrown by one more unnecessary burger joint. Whether the weather reflects to us to the prime of our lives, the spring’s season we see we take to mean a vacation from the work we work, but not to give the life we live to others than ours. New buildings being taken over by new business, the old manager is paid to leave. The manager’s sheep look at the opposite shop’s windows for other empty job vacancies to fill in. Perhaps a cattery, or a café let me suggest? There some free meals may be taken because the truck delivered them from the hidden-source. There so many goods are to swallow, that one-day leaves too much for tomorrow. Some how the houseless go on hungry though, a selective taste perhaps? Or maybe the food dump is too far-off and the tied bags to greasy to loose? My local family church stands tall with the centrepiece on high, if one looked from afar in the night they would be impressed on how lovely the site really lights. How different it really looks to the other ones beside it? To its left there are numerous banks and shops, and to the right a gambling spot and bus stops. Everyone passes on everyone moves by; the open scene is as rope-work puppetry except the puppets are with invisible mouth gages. Jesus-style-Justice here remains silent. (as written in: Isa 58:6-8. Matthew: 5:43-47,48. Matthew 12:18-21. also Roman: 12:20). There is no head I am like bait, even the head-like or elders watch on the meaningless activities while they sit and pine for the golden thirties. Wow! The traces for even yesterday are lost and dissolved into the coming attractions of tomorrow like a newspaper headline, so “what happened last year” they ask? “Saim ol, same old?” I reply. A trackless wilderness in a concrete jungle, where congregations representing the dispersion of liberal-faith identities hand me their tracts, and pamphlets to become like them, to visit them and come see their truth. Their paper tracts float like a pigeon’s feather slowly falling to the ground makes some more garbage and waste. Some of their signs I see nailed to a tree trunk like it was in symbol of Social-Crucifixion, while others broadly cover the previous billboard advertisement promoting the message that I was meant to take home with them in mind. They each represent what sounds the same but begs to differ when it comes to payday or time. I am informed about the changes they make and the power the have, the good they do and the love they share, that to be saved forever is to be one with their order. Then they tell the other, and the other and the other as they go. Charity begins at home one said before, funny that is, because the litter on the outside is plentiful and around. If only a strong wind would blow this way and make a tornado out of the environmental ignorance that sweeps our spirit away would be blessing for us all. What really goes on in that tall building what happens as they gather there and pray? Actually most my age come to play, what do the others speak of and what do they discuss? Urban Youth culture, New Age Thought, The Consumer Market? Race, and Class Conflicts, Parental and Child Daily-Communications, Multi-faith Society? World Amnesty, World Poverty, Disease Cause and Effects, Biblical, and Personal Prophecies, written, and taught, revealed or interpreted? Gifts of the spirit, Community concerns, Education concerns, Updated Laws, Street-Justice, Government Influence? Or X?... In the little time they use to assemble what happens? How far do they reach in the little space they spend there? What is overcome? I engaged myself some time, only to find that the volunteers don’t get paid in cash, neither funds from the government, it’s the same everywhere only some become more creative and wise with what they do have. The missionary leader stands up tall on the pedestal after reading aloud the gospel, he speaks to a mixed crowd from all walks of life, he tells us about the plight of the poor overseas. Funny that he speaks of the places we’ve have supposed to have been. He speaks of the good, and of the bad, the governments of here and there. The trade the natural coffee beans, or cocoa, how its cheap to buy there and sold for a lot here. He paints the picture of the outcry of injustice, and he prompts for our responses as he tells us how to. That we should say our prayers and give our time, some their money and other their lives. He speaks, as we hear, I listen to what we should know. Seems like the intentionally gruesome TV treatment did not hit us hard enough while we were having our dinner the night before? When we had to watch the starving reflection of our faces on the small screen? The guilt was sold, but who bought it? From all walks of life we are where we live in this corner. In this city we believers often gather to our space for Divine grace for the hope it brings. Reminded as we should remind ourselves about the unjust affairs of our national homes; and to be convinced about the dire need over there, the ones we escaped. So what about here the ones we now face? Still institutionalised it stands, and through other means the same evil lurks. Yes we may be here now, and have left our nationalities and the many matters from it behind as the past to dissolve. On the other hand we seem to have put on a new skin in this environment as if there were no problems at all here or there, East or West, home or overseas. Here the sheep of the "Good News" are scattered and the Shepard’s look on to watch the endlessness of activities until their eyes can see no more and the difference from his sheep to theirs is unidentified as we are. The "No-ID", and no "I see" blocks us from uniting to understand to recognise then confront the deep-rooted situations over here that possibly one day we may focus and attempt to fully overthrow the many there back in our native homes. Then that saying hits us day by day, “can’t beat the system?...then go with the flow.” So most follow what is seen, and indirect rejection of their own. There is no head here I am the bait, to the other end of the choices I will make in days. Lord, have mercy on us all…. Jesus-style-Justice here remains silent. (as written in: Isa 58:6-8. Matthew: 5:43-47,48. Matthew 12:18-21. also Roman: 12:20). Holy Scriptures New World Translation Prisoner Of Conscience |
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| MATTHEW: 3:4 “Happy (blessed) are those conscious of their spiritual need, since the Kingdom of the Heavens belongs to them.” MAL, 3:5,6 5:Look! I am sending to you people Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and fear-inspiring day of the Lord. 6: And he must turn the heart of fathers back towards sons, and the heart of sons back towards fathers; in order that I may not come and actually strike the earth with a devoting (of it) to destruction….. |
WHERE The Tire Rolls Come WITH Me! THIS TIME wheel revolves round, and round and, around and about. From morning? Comes twilight, Too much in want heralds this State of regret. A mental strain, drained from warmth of still healing, whole wounds bound up with toxic gum nicotine… Come on now… come with me, we may be blind and cannot see, let us take arms and feel our way through before the road blocks and the chosen found few let us take up our stakes and cross past the gates before its too late and the TIME wheels past THIS day… "Where The Tire Rolls...Come with me" @Peculiar Christian Poets ID:Resolution1948 Wherever you go I will go, And where you lodge, I will lodge, Your people shall be my people, And your God my God. Ruth :1:16 |
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| Age Of Uncertainty Etching by Peter Howson 1990 |