Tag Archives: truth

INTRODUCING THE SON

 

source: unknown

Author’s note: for a while now, I have been compiling a Scripture According To Shadows. I write pieces that are based on the Holy Bible. My book is not meant to replace the bible, but to highlight some messages I think the bible is trying to communicate. The piece below is a prologue coming late. Apologies.

 

INTRODUCING THE SON

 

Narrator, in a deep voice:

In the modern day land of myth and legend

 

Narrator now raises hands and high-pitches voice dramatically:

Heads duck as lightning sparks fly generously

People’s and monsters’ alike

They scream fear and horror

Like babies on beds of pins and needles

They run and tumble

As mountains crack and ocean waves hit

Chaos graces the day

 

Narrator now exits

 

Seeing him descending mildly

You’ll never know he is the cause

Of the apocalypse happening below

This dove gliding smoothly

Has his focus on the humans

Not those spirits and forces of legend

Not the powers unseen and terrifying

But these tumbling fumbling mortals

Parading aimlessly the surface

Of this small round planet

Bloody bloodied ants without a queen

 

He deals in strange ways this one

He doesn’t wear shiny clothes and blings

That advertise his wealth or power

And doesn’t strut around with stooges or paparazzo

We have searched for him all over

Google, Facebook, Twitter and all

Well, maybe he runs a bitcoin account

 

He is perfectly stealthy this one

He hides in plain sight

Yet cannot be hidden

He is so plain in intent

Yet holds scary secrets

Average-sized friendly neighbourhood mortal by day

Super-sized scary mysterious force by night

He sees the shades of reality

Samples all states of matter

From the 2-dimensional

Through all physical

Through the psychological

Downright to the spiritual

He breezes through dimensions all at once

And he does all these without the aid of technology

He can manipulate forms of matter

Commanding the weather is the least

Of tricks he’s got in his toolbox

He can bend the minds of men

Without having to select the most suggestible subjects

He can bend even the intelligence of those ancient spirits

Without these victims knowing they are under hypnosis

And he’ll still get home in time for moonlight dinner

All in an 8-hour day job

 

Fear this one who wrecks critics

Without even packing a ‘matic

He takes down whole schools of philosophy

Without a blast or lead

And when he’s done arguing

He straightens some bent bones

Or raises some corpse

For a cherry on top

He’s just totally lovin’ ’n rockin’

 

As regular-looking as he is unusual

He rolls with both high and low

Yet not rude or caustic just to prove a point

He blends well into social functions

As well as solitary places and forests

And though he soars in abstracts thoughts

He is also downright realistic

And even dabbles into politics

Not like those monk-y philosophers

Who constantly live in the heavens

Unminding the nation is at brink of collapse

Or those philosophers with their own agendas

Who trade their worth in sincerity

For a glass of power and vodka

 

Who’d think the foundation of this man’s life

Was just love for humanity

Catered for the battered, tattered and shattered

Empathic with the sick, weak and bleak

Lightened the blackened, lacking and darkened

 

And in that same spirit with which he comforts

He deals with the darkness that rules souls and nations

And for a coup de gras

He crosses over the threshold of humanity

Through dying and takes on the enemy territory

Totally razing the zone

To the point of no comeback for the enemy

He blends in with the citizens of hades

Breaks through the rocky strongholds of Belial

Walks over the raging waters of the Leviathan

Takes the winds out and choking the Lucifer

To carry out a fatality strike on the Satan with the flaming sword

He now carts away the sacred treasures

It is like a scene out of an epic

 

He now leaves gehenna

Coming back to earth to distribute gifts

To those who all their lives

Have been wasting and impoverished

 

Oh, he still walks around today alright

Having achieved the status of a true IMMORTAL

Hiding in plain sight

Keeping it real all the way

 

No, not in the steeples of the cathedrals

Or the big offering boxes at sermons

He doesn’t bathe with the Holy Water

Or rub Anointing Oil on his skin

 

He is out and in everywhere…

 

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THE MAGI-CIANS 2: SHOWDOWN

Trick or treat

Dance to the beat

Coz we got you neat

Oh you sly Herod got the heat

And now totally unsettled on your seat

(source: unknown)

_____________________________________________

Sat on your throne feeling neat

Any wagging tongues your guards beat

You called the shots and dictated the beat

You get angry and the innocent feel the heat

You give the orders and it all becomes a bloody treat

 

Well now feel my beat

I’m gonna give it to you neat

I turn on my words like the heat

From my kitchen comes a nuclear treat

Coz I’m a righteous gangster from heaven’s seat

 

All we got in life are a treat

Handed to us all in our seat

We can’t control life’s every beat

Not to speak of our every heart’s beat

Who survives when life brings on the white heat

 

Whether we work under the heat

Or play games each lounging on his seat

Fate is a cunning illness none can fully treat

Though we alter some events at life’s complex treat

There’s much in this party that doesn’t dance to all our beat

 

So whilst on your sadistic seat

Feeling like a god so fly and neat

The magicians heard a different beat

And did not stagger at the sight of your heat

But rocked side to side at the Chef-God’s treat

 

And now Herod feel the heat under your seat

As you just got beat at your own grand treat

Coz the Chef-God’s heat cooked you neat

Giving you a treat to his version of heat

Time to feel my beat crash your seat

_________________________________________________

Matthew 2:1-13 contains a summary of how Herod’s attempt at killing God’s son was totally foiled.

 

Narrator: “Hollup magi, I’m coming. Herod’s goose is cooked! Let’s go see those gods of the 21st century feeling like they own the universe and all of existence. We need to remind them they didn’t conceive, incubate and give birth to themselves. Now that they all grown up and making a few bucks and academic degrees, they be barking up and down the streets with doggy philosophies and belching with goaty pride!”

THE MAGI-CIANS

source: dnaindia.com

 

Narrator:

After the saga of the angels and virgins

We continue this tale of humble origins

At the ancient land of adventure and djinns

 

They grew skilled in the art

Of setting the merely supernatural apart

And studying the truly spiritual by heart

 

Magicians:

We’ve analyzed psychological effects and tricks

Criticized those engaged in religious theatrics

But we don’t do these just for kicks

 

So on seeing the strange star

Mad curiosity drove them travelling far

And they didn’t even use a car

 

When we landed in the metropolis

We said when accosted by the metro-police

We seek the righteous soul please

 

The police burst into wild guttural laughter

Calling their speaker a philosophical faffer

Like a page out of its chapter

 

Called the bunch amusing strangers

Like drunks who made wagers

They’d win a shootout with rangers

 

They then gave them an intro

To the 21st century in toto

Showing them they were so retro

 

We’ve come from a time

Where good flows in the clime

And love don’t cost a dime

 

Weapons protect us from nature

Not destroy each other’s future

And we got peace words can’t capture

 

We all thrive as one

Under the Illuminated One

Nothing he does can be undone

 

Magicians generally keep a low profile

And so these were silent all the while

Without saying anything right or vile

 

They couldn’t have come in vain

So they asked again and again

Though hearts bled in pain

 

We’ve been gathering knowledge in stages

Whilst half-truths and pride keep others in cages

Holding on to views and traditions for ages

 

Science and philosophy have their place

To finding truth they help in that race

But limited when evil stares you in the face

 

We are experimenters and astute observers

Not narrow-minded like so many others

Who can’t see science and faith share many borders

 

So we took to flight

At the signal of the true light

Who illuminates all in sight

 

Even our lord the Illuminated One

Can never hold a candle to this one

All realms will bow to this righteous one

 

(source: wakingtimes.com) What worlds really are all around us?

He will bridge the spiritual and physical

Unravel the dark web of the mystical

And he is not even mythical

 

So let all those with seeing eyes

Break away from all other ties

To reach for where reality lies

 

We will join you wherever you are in time and space in this search!


 

Matthew chapter 2 verse 1: NOW WHEN Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men [astrologers] from the east came to Jerusalem, asking, 2. Where is He Who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the east at its rising and have come to worship Him. 9. When they had listened to the king, they went their way, and behold, the star which had been seen in the east in its rising went before them until it came and stood over the place where the young Child was. 10. When they saw the star, they were thrilled with ecstatic joy. 11. And on going into the house, they saw the Child with Mary His mother, and they fell down and worshiped Him.

 

PERSONAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I wonder what really “unseen” means. We can’t exactly see atoms. Does that make them spiritual? What is the nature of non-physical intelligent beings? Can we readily walk the bridge between the physical and the ‘spiritual’ worlds?

IN CELEBRATION OF IGNORANCE

 

general knowledge test, general knowledge questions, general knowledge answers, general knowledge questions and answers, general knowledge quiz, general knowledge trivia, teacher certification test, fun trivia questions and answers on space, general knowledge about universe, universe facts, space facts

source: angrylearnerr.com

You may choose to build an altar in my name

And sing eulogies as you get drunk all day long

Or follow my blog and all social media accounts

Secretly harbouring admiration for me

Having abandoned your own work and family

Doing these totally at your own peril

 

Coz I won’t be waking up chanting “oms” or burning incense

Reading the stars and ancient manuscripts at night

Writing long philosophies and moral codes

Or walking down the street followed by a picking of spiritual seekers

Carrying myself like someone who really knows what he is doing

And that that thing he is doing is nothing

 

What do I know of divinity

What do I know of hatred

What do I know of love

What do I know of weakness

What do I know of happiness

What do I know of knowledge

What do I know of art

What do I know of prostitution

What do I know of hunger

Maybe if you wait long enough

Burning the midnight oil in cyberspace

You might have the pleasure of being the first

To see another work of my art

To see another grand expression

Of the depth of my ignorance

Of the richness of my shallowness

Maybe you will then finally see

In that precious midnight moment

That there is really nothing new

To learn from another human

Who is just a stuttering mere mortal like you

Trying to say stale things in great ways

Sounding like he knows anything about nothing

And actually saying nothing about anything

 

And

Whilst countless shamelessly beg

At the doorstep of knowledge

Priding themselves as masters

Of art and science and law and philosophy

 

I will turn myself in bed

And continue snoring

As I dream on

Laughing in my sleep

At those who thought I had something grand to say

THE SIMPLE WAYS OF ART

source: pinterest

It’s 1 am

How do I do something no one has ever written

Write something no one has ever done

Outstandingly creative or ingenious

That gets the reader stuck on its pages and lessons

A real page- and life-turner

That remains evergreen even when my hair turns grey

Something that will cost some sweet sweat

The kind that precedes a particularly delightful rest

The kind that only comes after rock-hard labour

 

This is the question I keep asking

At 4:30 am

 

This is the eternal curse of the artist

That high bar we have set for ourselves

That forever keeps us below the scientist

That high bar we never attain to

That makes a mockery of us before the scientist

Whose life is so simple

A very theoretically pragmatic mix of principles

No matter how actually chaotically inadequate this mix is

 

We forever fawn over our inferiority before them

The scientist who needn’t rise beyond his senses

The scientist who needn’t read between the lines of this piece

The scientist whose neurons fire away in peace

We artists be forever murdering ourselves

Suiciding and homiciding all through life

The artist wakes up every morning with a hammer to the head

He then picks at the pieces with long nails

Same nails he used to scratch his itchy under a night before

He scatters the bits with his scrawny feet

So bony from years of starvation

Because inspiration did not give 50 kobo if he survived

In a world of indie publishing, miscellaneous blogging and facebooking

He peers with eyeballs painfully straining hard

For something beyond the senses

Something truly beautiful

That could not have come from among those neurons and equations

Something more than a mockery of his senses

Writing simply as his eyes have seen or ears heard

He has to spin the magical into it

He cannot paint that drab leaf the way it is

The leaf has to look like a flower

A glorious flower nobody has seen before

art, draw, drawing, eye, eyes, freak

source: favim.com

The artist has to produce a work of wonder

A work that the senses have to adore

A work the scientist has to bow before in awe

 

Make no mistake the scientist works hard

Starting from the imagination

Creating a complex question

But he then turns the simplistic way

Reduces the wonder to a series of observations and equations

 

The scientist has his own merits

 

But,

 

The artist has to dig into the supernatural

He has to bridge the realms of the seen and unseeable

He has to produce a wonder

The scientist did not know existed

In a way that could not be explained by equations and mere observations

Using tools the scientist did not know existed

He looks at the simple elements

Eats them all up

Regurgitates lying down

Whilst the scientist scorns

Calling him a lazy goat

Who cannot handle the rigours of elaborate farm work

 

Only to produce a wonder the same scientist can apprehend

And adore with his own senses

 

A world beyond mere observations and simple equations of life.