Adam and the truth

12192155The truth, please tell me exactly what does this word mean?  It is a word past on to us through all the prophets from the beginning of time.  It began with Adam right up to the here and now.  Yet used by the prophets as a way for mankind to advance, it has only been used to hold us all back.  Even from the beginning.  Eve knew the truth, for even being a piece of Adam, that rib was pulled from Adam and it had the capacity to tell the difference between the truth and everything else.  But even from the beginning, Eve concealed the truth because of her own self interest.  Even then, it was her intention to hide the truth from Adam because of her fashion awareness.  Ant the truth about Adam has been concealed even to this day.  For if one was to googal pictures of Adam, one would find that every picture does not show a scar running down his chest where a rib would of been removed.  No, you find most pictures would have a strong, ayrrian white male standing in the garden of Eden next to Eve, who in most cases is holding an apple or another fruit that depicts knowledge.  All of which I contend, began the journey we now, even to this day which has led us away from the true meaning of the word of truth.  First, if Eve knew the truth about eating from the tree of knowledge then Adam should of known as well.  And another thing outside of the scar, why, if Adam being the image  of god, does every picture have a navel upon Adam’s body.  God, I am quit sure does not have one, so then, Adam being created in the image of God would not need one either.  So, from the beginning, we see the truth has been twisted and an abused word.

When we stand outside any of our justice system buildings, a scale of justice represents the truth found within.  Tell me please, when has the truth come out of the courthouse. On a daily bases in America and throughout the world, guilty people are freed and innocent people led away to the renched cell block. Never find justice there. And if justice is found only in which one pocesses, well justice will not be served to the downtroddened. (to be continued)

“Tomorrow Never Comes” by: B. 01-15-2013


A man falls asleep, with yesterday on his mind.  He could be a doctor, worrying about a patient.  He could be a used car salesman, worrying about his last sale.  He could be a lawyer, worrying about his new client.  He could be a contractor; worrying about closing a deal…He could be anyone, worrying.  He might go to sleep by himself.  He might be going to sleep next to his girlfriend.  He might be sleeping with his wife.  He could be sleeping with anyone.  The funny thing is that no matter the situation, he does not allow the past peacefully be left behind, allowing the past to become what it is suppose to become.  The man does not awaken into the future, the point he was saying before he closed his eyes…tomorrow.  Tomorrow, I shall not play God, choosing who shall live or die.  Tomorrow, I shall be honest in the items I am selling.  Tomorrow, I shall not be un-just with my clients.  Tomorrow, I shall finish what I started.  Tonight I shall be happy, for I can sleep alone.  Tonight, I shall truly love my girlfriend for all she can make me become.  Tonight, I shall be thankful for my wife, for we together have made a commitment to become one.  Tonight, I shall sleep in the present.  Let all sleep with the knowledge that tomorrow never comes.  The doctor rushes out the door, to see whom he saved yesterday.  The car salesman rushes out the door to see who he can hustle today.  The lawyer rushes to do more injustice in the world today.  And the contractor rushes to close the next deal to pay for the last…oh, what a sad world we live in.  Be it for the true saint who walks among us…that person that lives today, for today.  Not awakening to a tomorrow that never comes, but awakens to today, right now.  The start of the day is not jumping out of bed rushing into tomorrow, bringing yesterday with him.  For the saints among us, the eyes open and they first say to themselves, thank you God, for now.  They open up the window and see all that is before them and are thankful.  They have a smile upon their face, for the morning songbird is singing its song and a joy is found in the heart, for the moment.  And the saint walks into the now, not worrying about yesterday, for they know they did their best and went to sleep knowing that.  The saint walks into the now, knowing that he will do the best, make the best no matter what happens next.  The saint will allow the day to progress at its own pace, not thinking about how to make something happen, but accepting what is happening, now.  And a prayer, or wish is said by the saint for all those rushing about, that they may no longer rush into tomorrow but to stop and look at the moment…now.  For the saint knows that if by chance everyone would stop and look at the moment, now, they would not rush off into the tomorrow, the tomorrow…that tomorrow, that never comes…

“THE BLANK PAGE” by: B. 01-10-2013


Words dancing about the page, having some fun, as if it were open mic night down at the corner pub.  At times confusing at others just meaningless.  Some try to be sophisticated, others just want to be plain.  Some try to complete a sentence, and others that simply just don’t belong.  I ask them to go, your not wanted here right now…but do you think they will leave me, no, not for one moment.  I need some rest, please stop jumping around…No, they keep dancing, having a party of their own.  They must be enjoying the frustration, they must sense on my face.  Ok, I shout, if you won’t cooperate, I threaten to wipe them out…does that seem to stop them, no, their here for the night.  They dance and they folly, having just a great time, just watching the frustration, all over my face.  I ask them please, come to some kind of order, but no way, not now, they just keep playing with my head, as they all dance about.  I bang my head on the wall, think it my stop them from dancing…so once again I threaten them, I tell them I’ll get up, and I tell them I’ll walk out, I’ll just walk out the room…but they seem to just laugh at me, with the knowledge they possess,  they tell me they will follow, no matter which way I go.  So tonight’s words are senseless, maybe drunk on their own wine…they want to just mess with me, my heart and my mind.  So I let the words dance free, no meaning nor rhyme, their having a party, some fun of their own.  I laugh on the inside, I say to myself…let them words have a day off, and let them have some fun, some fun of their own.  But now the words tell me, come join us and dance.  I decide to concede, and let go of all thoughts, no need for them thoughts, no not for tonight.  My mind is now having such fun, just some fun with them words, no reason to rhyme, no reason for order, just having a good time.  And then it comes to me, that sometimes — it is just better, just having a blank page, which is better than none…

“O, LITTLE MAN” by: B. 01-09-2013


I place these words before you…The little man who stands in dark corners, afraid of the light…you, the one that stands so tall before her, that belittles her with your might.  But in reality you are held powerless before her. Although you raise your hand, as well as your voice… to make her bow down to you, and your manly strength.  Not realizing that each time you do this, only to fall deeper into your darkness.  But realize, light has been shed on your weakness, and is visible to those who see.  For your hand raised, your voice in words of anger, only strengthen your directed victim.  Instead of showing your weakness, you should bow down before her, her strength mightier than yours.  Have you forgotten where it is that you came from?  Did you not come from a woman’s womb?  And were you not nurtured as a child by a woman?  Did you not know, or have you forgotten the pain a woman suffered, suffered in giving you birth?  Do you not realize, the joy upon her face, only moments after giving that birth, a smile and the warmth she pasted on, only seconds after giving you life.  And now you dare stand before another and have thoughts that you are mightier than her?

O, little man…lost in your darkness.

 Where did your thoughts come from, when was the moment in your life that you concluded that you were mightier than a woman?  Did she not bare children for you, do you forget the strength she possessed?  A pain, as a man, you yourself could not handle.  You, even now, grown, would cry and whimper like a baby… if asked to bring life into this world.  Yes you little man that stands tall with your hand.  O, little man, come out of the darkness, lower your hand, and fall to your knees before her.  Bow your head and ask for forgiveness, beg for it… and relinquish your own minds power over her, for it is truly the woman that possesses the strength.  Do it now, while you still have a chance, for tomorrow is not promised to anyone.  Lower your hand and beg for forgiveness, before it is to late…and if you are asked to stay, be thankful for her strength and never forget it again…And if it is to late, and you are asked to leave, back out with your head bowed before her, and ask her for her forgiveness as you leave, and you may be granted a peace in the future for a lesson may have been learned.  O, little man of no strength…these words are not to be offensive, they are only given in hopes of enlightenment.  Never again belittle another woman, for the woman truly is more powerful than man.  Remember to give praise for her as she stands by your side… and never you walk ahead again.  Remember she is not there to serve you, her strength is there to help…O, little man, my words are written to help you, no way meant any harm…My words are meant as a lamp to help guide you, guide you into the light of her strength…please, let the light into your heart, let your heart shine bright!

O, Little Man…Praise the strength of your woman!

And never forget again.

“THE UNKNOWN” by: B. 12-22-2012


Standing on the edge, a slip, the fall, would surly kill you.  Only a few feet from safety, but that is behind you.  Forward, much more of your current situation.  You can’t tell how far it is to safety going forward to find sure footing once again.  But you are at a point that going backwards is just as dangerous as going forward.  You think to yourself, how did I get into this situation.  Only a few moments ago you were standing on solid ground not even thinking of the danger that lies ahead.  In a crowd of people, all busy doing what people do to keep busy.  Every one of them thinking that what it is , is the most important thing in the world.  You look at them all bustling about, one going that way and another going that way.  Each not concerned on nothing more than what it is their doing.  You look at them and can see, observing them, knowing that they are only staying busy to make it seem like what it is they do is important, when in reality…it isn’t.  None of it.  For you see they busy themselves for their own self interests.  And so you tire yourself of watching them, you turn and start walking a path less traveled.  There are a few people ahead, but far enough ahead that they are not bothered by you, and you are not bothered by them.  You now have some space around you and them and you can now observe the natural beauty of the things that surround you.  You can feel a sense of calm that has surrounded you.  And as this calmness grows, you decide to take the path even more less traveled.  You still can see those ahead which gives you some comfort, but you are on a different path.  You can see them on the flat ground, but the path you have taken is a bit more treacherous.  Not bad at first, for the beauty of what you see is much more than what even those few ahead and below you can see.  And you move forward, stopping from time to time because you are seeing things as no other has ever seen.  These sights do not give you a feeling that you are any better than the others, but thoughts that if the others could only see what you see, would only help them to find a calmness they seem to lack in their own lives.  For them to realize that they are no more important than anyone else, but at the same time their own importance in the overall whole.  So you keep moving on until you have found yourself looking down.  That is when you realized just how tight of a situation you have gotten yourself in…a slip, and the fall would kill you.  And nobody around you to even know.  And a fear of loneliness, of being alone, only allows the situation you find yourself in only making it seem worse.  A panic sets in, do you go back the few steps, only feet to safety and allow yourself to go backwards.  You realize that those few feet now carry the same fate of slipping and falling off the edge.  Or do you go forward, to the unknown.  Either way you might slip.  Either way you can still fall.  And as you haven’t moved now because of the fear you now posses, and your mind races on what to do…the thought of faith crosses your mind.  The more you think of this obscured thought you realize that the calmness you felt on solid ground is returning to you.  I know what my decision would be, only forward is an option for me.  For going back would only bring me back to this situation another day.  So I take my chances, moving slowly at first, on the path forward, to the unknown.  And I think what would be your decision?  Would you fall back, to possible safety, to do this another time, or would you go forward…to the unknown?

“The Life of the Rose Bushes” by:B. 12-07-2012


The barren rose bush stands alone, barren, only stems, empty, only prickly thorns remain.  Winter had descended upon her.  Cold and all alone, isolated so it would have seemed from the inside looking out.  Years have passed, almost empty, only producing moments of small, insignificant blossoms for a long time.  Forgetful of even herself.  Forgetful of the joy of her own purpose in life.  One day, haphazardly, noticing from across the walkway, she noticed another rosebush, barren and isolated himself.  Two unhappy bushes, strike up a conversation.  Unnoticed by either, the cold winter of their lives had not seemed so cold.  She tells him, in searching for something, I found love in the outside sky.  She, looking up, watched the birds fly, and wished she could be like the birds, telling him, flying free.  Her thoughts of flying grew, more and more each day.  But somehow the thoughts of flying could not get the rosebush off the ground.  Something was missing.  The rosebush knew not what.  So she flew in her mind, alone.  He likewise was missing something in his life.  His thoughts, seemingly much grander, asked question of every passing thing.  His thoughts were of the universe.  In his mind, he flew to the heavens, to the creator of the universe, only wishing to get next to it, the creator.  So the conversation began, small at first, but she noticed a blossom on the rosebush across the distance.  The sounds coming from across the distance, faint at first, brought memories of the past.  Those sounds were of music to the ears of her, from across the way.  He grew more and more buds, just from the conversations with her from across the way.  She looked at the buds, and remembered how the sounds had made her feel before, not feeling her own buds producing, which had not happened for so long.  He noticed her buds, and commenting on there beauty, made her feel something more than she had felt in a long time.  Still looking at the birds, somehow she began to feel content here, on the ground, more so than she had felt in a long time.  His blossoms grew as well…he began doing things in his life that had somehow always been in his mind, but fearful of taking a chance.  The window opened, and the music now flowed between them more freely…and both, not realizing their own blossoms, but noticing the others.  Feelings so strange to both of them flooded their inside.  They both then, one day, looking into a passing mirror realized that they themselves were producing blossoms, beautiful looking blossoms, each realizing that it was something the other rosebush was doing to each other.  Others began to notice a difference as well.  They began to stop, and look at first.  But then questions from these outside sources, inquisitive at first, became more intense.  They did not appreciate the blossoms, for they were so used to only the thorns.  Soon, these outside sources began to erect barriers between the two rosebushes, not noticing the other across the way.  They took clippers to her, cutting off every blossom that grew.  They didn’t realize that this action of cutting off her blossoms, only made her produce more and more blossoms.  And the blossoms grew bigger and more beautiful each time.  Meanwhile, although separated, his blossoms grew more and more as well.  He realized that his search of the universe only brought him back to where he was, for he realized now that the creator he had been searching, was within, not external to himself.  And the more and more he thought of the creator being within, he realized that the creator had given him his answer all along, and it was just across the way.  He realized that the beauty of the music, the beauty of all the words he had seen, and the beauty of all the external things passing through his life was meaningless.  For it was not the external things that made the beauty of the blossoms, but the internal feelings that gave him joy that allowed the blossoms to become so beautiful.  And then one day the barriers that separated the two rosebushes were removed.  And although the external beauty of their full blossoms was noticed, it was the internal feelings of the other that made them realize their own happiness.  The complicated things in their lives began to disappear, and the joy of the other rosebush, knowing, realizing, that they were there for each other, and would always be, no matter what.  And with this realization, she now knew, she could fly, as well as he, realizing his creation, the purpose of life.  They now knew, that together, they could become one, and together, both flying, could find the peace they both had been searching for all their lives.


Went into the pizza joint today and ordered a pitcher.  the owner was there a new employee was being trained today.  The smell of those fresh baked pizzas, that fresh bread aroma…filling the nostrils that trigger those taste buds that makes one want to order a pizza.  But not today, must override these human senses.  Please, just the pitcher of Bud.  I sit in “my “ booth, becoming a bit of a celebrity now, and pull out my notebook to jot some thoughts down.  The counter, which is a semi-horseshoe shape, only six feet away from me.  A good vantage point for someone who likes to write, like me, I sit and observe as the people come and go.  Not for some judgmental reason, not to pick up anyone.  I observe for the pen.  Today only one person is waiting, a man in his forties, a little overweight being he is all of 5’3” in his body frame and weighing a few ticks over 200 pounds.  Seems to be a worker by trade, wearing blue jeans well worn and signs of one knee beginning to show signs of wearing through.  Must be a bud man himself by the black belt and the buckle that reads Budweiser.  He has on a white tee shirt with a company logo I can’t make out what it says.  He has a stubble of a beard on his round chubby face.  As I lay my pen down for a sip of my beer, I notice the new employee alone at the counter.  The boss must be in the back filling out a phone order that came in.  The new guy, attempting to look busy, fumbles around with the soda glasses and plastic containers located under the counter.  Not really doing nothing, but removing and replacing them, his eyes go to a clear jar located on the countertop with more than a few dollars stuffed inside.  I say he’s not doing nothing with the glasses and stuff because his eyes keep going to that jar only a few inches away from his nose.  Looking at those Washington’s and a few coins, his curiosity finally overtakes him.  His eyes drift to the back…checks out the boss whose halfway into making a pizza.  The new employee decides to make a peek around the room and guess it appears to him neither customer is watching.  I have that sleek way of checking things out without being noticed…and the new employee goes for the jar of Washington’s.  But as he dumps it out onto the countertop, the loose coins drop out and start falling onto the floor disrupting the new employees’ covert operation.  The owner looks out and I look up and that “oh shit, I got caught” look fills his face.  I laugh out loud and his face gets red as a beet.  The owner is half smiling, realizing his new employee is not doing what he should be doing.  The new employee shuffles his body and picks up the coins and replaces the tip jar back in its place.  Not at this moment will he know how many Washington’s are in the jar.  Embarrassed, he scrambles back to work as the owner barks out something for him to do.  I sip my beer and pick up my pen…back to story telling.