Wish You Were Here

Untitled: Wish You Were Here.


Intro.


Lyrics fill my mind, unedited fragments fill my thoughts, they travel with me everywhere i go, i just can't get them out of my mind. If i were lonely i would welcome them, however, i am not, thus they perturb and distort my every waking second, a broken soundtrack to my life, forever and a day, they follow me. I find myself being tracked and hunted down by my hero's, Marley, Zimmerman, Heron and Waters, to name but a few. They voice their opinions to me, tell me how its is, secrets and lies, and i just can't escape their influence, because it is their words which have brought me to where i am, lost and fighting for my mind. But i have no place to go, nowhere to take them, i'm just struggling to cope with routine, an everyday life with nothing to show for it, when all i wanted was to apease my mentors, show them that i could express and excel, the words they spoke... wish you were here.



Part One.


Shine On You Crazy Diamond.


There was a time when the music left me, way back when, when the world was at war and all i could here were the screams of the dying, angels and prophets. Now the war is over and they scream no more. So back to the music, and the lyrics. A man on guitar, strumming three chords, and singing about being saved by a woman, i feel empathy for him, love is the common denominator in many songs, it's something we can all equate to. We only have to listen to understand the passion which he feels for that someone, the relief that someone loved him enough to pull him out of his quagmire. We've all been down in the dumps, and sometimes a song can change us, bring us up and out, smelling like roses. And if she isn't around anymore, well, that song will remind us how happy and how pleased we were to be friends, or more. A harmonica drones in sympathy for the vocals which are sung with heavy tones and feeling. She was a true friend, i'll never forget her.
My thoughts switch from those of war to those of peace, and she comes to me in a dream. Her face looks different, still beautiful (in my eyes), however, she now bears a scar above her left eye, and she places her head on my shoulder, for comfort, she has suffered, as many have, but at least she can find solace in me, the one she once saved, here and for her. And although my life has changed, the suffering i felt without her is not felt, as forgiveness is spared, as she was the one who forgave me. But i know that this is only a dream, and that if she were with me now, i would be the one looking for solace. We can all find a song we have not heard for a long time, but finding someone you love, or have loved, is not so simple.
The song continues in my head, as i walk to work, true, i am not the man i used to be, a little more wary of people and a little less confident, than i used to be, but at least i have love in my heart as i walk to work, knowing that she too has felt the love which we shared, if only for a day.


Wish You Were Here.


Its been ten years since we last kissed, ten years, without you. I still see your face, yes, in my hallucinations, and mirages. We speak, we talk, we exchange. You, forever optimistic and smiling, confident and loving, like to say we'll meet again, when all this is over and you have recovered. I feel it's your way of saying goodbye, goodbye to someone for whom love was just another trick, another song in a set, rehearsed and polished, an act, a show. But it was more than that, i promise. Yes, it was music, yes, it was performance, but the feelings were true, the emotions felt, i improvised my way through it all, trying, yes trying, to believe that it was real, more than delusion, more than fantasy. And for you it was real, i know that now, i know that all you gave, you gave because you were in love, when i, when i was just lost, lost in the music, lost in the chords, in the scales, the rhythm and melody. And you walked away, singing my song, humming my melody, miming my words, because you listened and understood, you spoke my words and began a journey which, for me, was about to end. And as the curtain fell, i felt sorrow, not for you, but for my music, for i would never hear it again, that which had followed me and kept me company would be lost, forever, and i guess, that would be the end, for i could not continue without it, and you would have been lost, without a song to sing, as you walked away from me. I have not heard the music since, but i have felt comfort in the knowledge that she sings my song, forever and a day.
I would add that, ten years after playing my song, i have learnt to listen, and now i have many songs which comfort me, in my hours of solitude, and she, she still comes to me, with a smile, such a sweet smile, before she walks away, singing my song, if only for a day.


Knockin' On Heaven's Door.


My song was a gift, no less, a gift from the gods, a song which would carry me on a journey to peace, and love, to find a true heart, a compassionate heart, and unwavering attention. My focus would take me away from delusions and drop me deep inside enemy territory, for a great war was upon us, and one which i had a leading role, so the stage was set, the lights dimmed, smoke rising, the audience silent. Distant sounds of gunfire, the low boom of an explosion, voices nearby, the crunch of footsteps on gravelled road. The loud scream of a missile flying over head, like a rocket on bonfire night, we duck for cover. Shell after shell lands, the horizon ignited by the instruments of war. If were in doubt, no longer as the first casualties are stretchered in, blood stained clothes of civilians with missing limbs, wrything in agony at their misfortune, shrapnel caught in their faces, the bodies of the dead carried in with faces covered. Outside, the looting begins. Windows smash, shouting can be heard, cars speed off, the police, no where, security, not in this town. As we tend to the wounded, riots break out in the streets, gangs of youths throwing stones, the occasional petrol bomb, upturned cars on fire, the gangs want control of these streets as there is no security, not for them, they play out the war which rages around, granted, on a smaller scale, but it is the same war, we are all part of this war. It is now well into the night and the sounds intensify, bodies litter the makeshift morgue, the streets now silent as the gangs consolidate their gains, and loses. There are no winners in a war like this, just survivors, suvivors and shaheed... inshallah.



Part Two.


In Revolving Ash Light.


Form, formless, shape, shapeless, movement and static. In the heart of the night, shadows cast. I find myself caught in a trance, a waking dream, where i'm being hunted, stalk and be stalked. Street lights illuminate, then darkness, walk at pace, then slow, tread with care. Silent is the night, as i play this game of hide and seek, with my lover, with my music. Through alleys and down streets, i hunt her, she hides around corners and waits, always ten paces ahead, sillouetted in the distance. I must reach her, i must talk to her, as I approach she vanishes, and silence, only to apear ten paces away, music emanating in her wake. I give chase, trying to catch up, she smiles and is gone. I can feel the night on my tail, hunting me, as I, her, darkness all around. Sleep is catching up with me as i fight to stay awake, I cannot give in to sleep, i must talk to her. So i follow the music, I track and I trail, with the night, snapping at my heels. Darkness finally envelops me and i float, taken away, by the night, as i awake, in my bed, confused and weary. It was only a dream, but the music, and her, i am draw towards them, for what i have lost, and my desire to get them back, I seek unconsiously, eternally. I look in the mirror and see, my reflection, next to her.


Some Times Always.


What is it to be in love? What is it to feel love? When was the last time you were in love, or the last time you felt love for someone? And if she doesn't love you, or if you don't know if she loves you, is it still love? I'm sure we would all love to know the answer to those questions. Some have the answers, some feel they have the answers, some are lost when it comes to love. I'd like to say i have answers, but they just apply to myself, whatever makes you happy. Am i right? Is love just a ticket to self-pleasure? Or is there more to it? Does love really make you happy? Does loving someone make them happy, even if they don't feel love for you? It's anyones guess at the end of the day, so does it really matter, or is it self glorification, appeasement? I felt love at the age of seventeen, untill then it wasn't love, family doesn't count because you have no choice, i mean, seriously, who would choose to love their parents? Or brothers and sisters, for that reason? When it comes to love it's a personal choice, like, i love that car, or i love that song, it's the ultimate choice to say you love something. However, when it comes to a person, you would hope, or at least like, that person to love you back. It doesn't happen i most cases, love is a fantasy, but as long as it makes you happy, keep loving! I would like to say i fell in love last a couple of weeks ago, she's the receptionist at work, newly recruited, and for all to see, obviously, they had to choose someone pretty. The reason i feel love is not a physical thing, although so is very attractive, its more a desire. I would like my working day punctuated by a pretty smile, some small talk, and the possibility that we could be friends. I'm not talking marrige, although i did try guess her name, and what it would sound like next to mine, of course I guessed right, but that was just fluke, her name is Rebecca.


Blues From A Gun.


I am Saleem, I am Mujahideen. I fight the Soviets, defend my homeland, Afghanistan. My brothers are strong people, we are warriors, together we defeat the enemy, those who kill our women and children, try to take away our homeland, but we are strong, and we defeat the enemy. Many join our jihad, take up arms and fight, AK47, that is our weapon, we fight the enemy, infidel, try to take our homes. We are many, we are strong, we defend our land in the name of Allah, and we will be victorious, God willing. My people suffer, they die everyday, shahuda, paradise awaits my brothers and sisters, those who witness, those who are martyr. I kill many, everyday, and many brothers are killed, but this is war, and everyday we fight, we survive. I know war, ever since i was child, i know war. I have weapon from age of sixteen, and i learn to shoot, i am good fighter, i am warrior, i am mujahideen. Tomorrow my son will fight, and then their son, we are warrior, that is what we know. In Afghanistan, always war, many people try to take our land, but we have brothers who will fight, fight to death, they do not fear death, paradise is theirs. The Americans help us, they give us money and weapons, they want to defeat the enemy too, i welcome them, but they are not mujahideen. One day we will have victory, and my people will be strong, we are good people, Afghanistan will be ours... inshallah.



Part Three.


We Sell Soul.


It takes a lot of nerve to write about oneself, to flood the page with emotions, feelings, experiences. Obviously the trick is to be modest and let the readers imagination take them where they want to go, you are merely a catalyst. The themes of love and war are particularly strong when it comes to emotions, they provoke a myriad of feelings, even if we haven't experienced them ourselves. Plot is less important because every story has a journey, and that may be just a walk in the park, as a opposed to a full blown package holiday. However, sharing is what i'm trying to achieve, i endeavour to aquaint my reader to various themes which float around in my mind, daring, yes, dangerous, less. What do i hope to achieve from my words? Well, i'd by lying if i said it was to win the Nobel Prize for Peace, however, i hope these words will touch you in such a way as to entertain, relieve your suffering, and lead you to harmony in the world we inhabit, the world we all inhabit. These words are ficticious, but not fiction, they are imagery, but not imagination, they are emotive, but are they emotion? That is where you come in. We sell soul, in return we ask for your emotions, do you feel what i want you to feel, when you read these words? If you do, then i succeed in my task, and i reach my goal. I am apart from my emotions when i write, my desire is to convey what i felt, not what i feel, and my use of words is purely to achieve that goal. Experience? We have all had experiences. We sell soul.


Who'll Pay Reparations On My Soul?


I had some news the other day, an email from a close friend, it was bad news, it stated that my father was ill, and that i could be cancer. I have already lost a parent to cancer, my mother, many years ago, i have recovered from this but the news which i recieved made me think, not about my mother, but about suffering. My father has always loved me, ever since i was a child, he knows me, what i like and dislike, when i'm happy and when i'm troubled, he is my father after all, i can rely on him even though i do not burden him with my worries, i know that he would understand, so i rely on myself. I have come though troubled times, schizophrenia, i was ill for many years, my father was the one who recognised my illness and took me to see a doctor, however, it was many years later, when the illness had gotten worse, that i submitted myself to see a psychiatrist. Suffering comes to all of us, young and old, we all experience suffering, and suffering comes in many forms, physical, mental, emotional, we all carry scars from relationships, lost family and loved ones. What doesn't kill you will make you stronger, or so they say, but what if it does kill you? Who will gain strength from loss? It may take years to come to terms with losing someone, my father is a shining example, when i lost my mother, he found his own way, a way to cope with such loss. And no, it wasn't easy for him, i would even say it was nearly enough to cripple him, emotionally and mentally, but he found a way and has lived many happy years, change happens, that's what he came to accept. For me, losing my father would be a grave ending to a relationship which has grown in the last few years, as i have spent many weeks living with him in his house, in Hong Kong. Ok, i'm on holiday and it's convenient to stay with him, but its much more than that, i wanted to build a bridge which was destroyed by suffering, both for me and him, we are like father and son again, we have an understanding, understanding that whatever happens, we will both be fine, we'll be ok.


Winter In America.


Take me down, right down, turn your love lights low and take me down. America is at war, well, no surprise there, but tell me, are you for real? America is always at war, whether is cold war, civil war or Vietnam war, america is always at war. I have no time for americans, with their hamburgers and rib-eye steak, their oil guzzling motorcars and their politics, on my tv, night and day, night and day. Take me away from america's claws, it's life sucking, future hogging, my way or the highway ideals. Well, no more america, just how blind, america, just how blind. Love is the answer, and i'm falling for it, one more time. The states are now a just dot on the horizon as i speed my way along love's highway, i've left those feelings behind, no longer required, as i race on my bike, to the next page, the next chapter, and love? she rides with me, on a journey with a future, a journey with hope. The shackles of america's consumer culture are left behind, as i pursue my dream, with love by my side, no longer the american dream, i do not want everything, only what is due, only what is true, me and love, yes, me and love, by my side. So turn the page, leave it all behind, take a chance and you will find that there is a whole lot more to this story than love and war, we are on a journey, we travel, and we will arrive... wish you were here.



THE END


by Steven KK Li

Fallen From Grace

Untitled (but Spiritualized): Fallen From Grace.


Intro.



I want to take you somewhere, somewhere far away, a distant land where few have been. I have graced this land, but only once, i have seen it with my own eyes but have no memories to share. I hope, by telling this story, the memories will return and once again, i will be at one with this land, a land where dreams come true, and destiny is revealed. We all have a place in our minds which is special to us, however, this is a place where 'minds' are special, or rather, a place where 'we' are special, a place which reveals to us our true nature and ultimately, a place which leads us to truth. How many of us are seeking truth, in our lives, how many of us are concerned about are nature? What exactly is truth, and nature? Well, when we reach our destination, this will all become clear, and such thoughts will no longer be foreign to us, they will be our goal, they will be our guide. Maybe you have been here before, walking the same path as I, maybe you have asked the very same questions. But have you ever... fallen from grace.



Part One.


One: So Much Trouble in the World.


War, we are all familiar with this word, even if we have never experienced it at first hand. The news is our source, when it comes to war, we 'watch' war on our tv screens, never out of our bedroom windows. So, is there, or rather, are there any wars? It is clear to all that there are many wars, and yes, some people see war from out of their bedroom window. How harrowing, war, outside my window, when all i want is a good nights sleep! But yes! war is upon us, war is everywhere. Who started these wars? Who has the right to spoil my sleep and prevent me from getting my eight hours? We are... yes, we all are responsible for war, the government we duly elected wages war on our behalf, sending troops and employing tanks, making air raids and bombing compounds. We are the reason there is war, we are the reason. Now i never said that you could go to war when i ticked that box, that box which i ticked on a monday afternoon, in some primary school, sometime last May. Well, sorry, but you might as well have asked me to push a button which launched a nuclear missile, i wasn't aware of my choice, i thought i was voting for better education, better healthcare and better public services! Sorry, you've just voted for all out global thermonuclear war, the pen is mightier then the sword, but not as mighty as nuclear fusion. Ah, wait a second, i voted for a government which would improve this country, not invade another. Yes, but we had to invade in order to get you your healthcare, and your bus route. We invaded in order to educate your kids, we invaded to... we just invaded, OK? Well, i'm sorry, but that's not OK! We never asked you to invade anyone, why are you blaming me for the military action? Simple, the action was taken on your behalf, we act on the interest of the nation, and we decided that if we invade, we will ensure that the buses will be on time, that waiting list will fall, and that our children will get better results! Crazy talk! What kind of monster are you? Waging war against a peaceful nation won't ensure these goals, how can you justify these ludicrous claims? Easy, we are an elected government and we act on the interest of the nation, so there! No! I won't stand for this! This is deception, and i will take you to court over this! Easier said than done madame, we select the judiciary in this country, and they act on our behalf. I've been a fool all my life! I thought i was doing good, ticking that box, when all i was doing was killing innocent people and causing suffering on a monumental scale! Well, you can always abstain, throw your vote away and let the opposition in, see if they can't fulfill you desire for justice, sorry but this is a no-brainer, whomever you vote for, we all follow the path to war, that what we're 'there' for. Have a nice day!



Two: Burnin an' a Lootin'.


We walk down streets of desolation, burnt out shops, upturned cars, debris. You know you're in a war zone, you don't know where, but you know by the empty streets that this place has been deserted. The smell of war is evident in a place like this, pungent fumes of smoke and sulphur, streets littered with the discarded remains of habitation, its looks like the end of the world, and i guess for the people who once resided here, it is. The shops have been looted, when the fighting began and the soldiers were clearing the area for air strikes, residents took whatever they could, ignoring rifle fire from snipers to make a quick getaway with whatever they could get their hands on, tv's, radios, food, furniture, the list goes on. No one is innocent when it comes to war, but i guess these things are useless left here, and if nobody looted them, they will have been obliterated by the shelling, so all's fair in love and war. The soliders have now gone, leaving a wasteland of rubble, no one will return, not even the freedom fighters who once patrolled these street, this place has been laid to rest, fallen from grace.



Three: Rebel Music.


Youssef sat on the doorstep, cleaning his AK-47. He and his muslim brothers were freedom fighters, members of Hezbollah, the militant Lebanese 'terrorist' organisation. The AK-47, the prefered weapon of the modern guerilla, is a Soviet designed gas-operated assult rifle, used thoughout the midlle-east by 'holy-warriors' during conflict, it has become a symbol of resitance all over of the world. Youssef returned to his room and placed the rifle on his bed. On the wall was the Flag of Hezbollah, yellow and green, an arm reaches out of the word Allah, clenching the Kalashnikov, 'Party of God' written in green Kufic script. He sits on the floor, and reads from the Koran. Today, he lost a brother, an Israeli air raid struck a mosque and many Shi'a were killed, his brother was attending morning prayer when the missile struck, his brother was an engineering student, he was not a member of Hezbollah. Youssef felt remorse, he and his brother grew up together, they played in the streets as children, attended prayer at the mosque together, his brother was the reason Youssef had joined Hezbollah, he felt it was his way of helping Lebanon, helping in the massive restructuring needed after its wars with its neighbour, Israel. Today he would reflect on his purpose, tomorrow he would fight Israeli's, Israeli's that had, fallen from grace.



Four: So Much Things To Say.


They say it is the literal word of God, written in such verse that it has riddled scholars for centuries, written by the Prophet Mohammed (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him), spoken by Archangel Jibraeel (Gabriel). Every word is the word of Allah, as it was revealed over a twenty-three year period. Unchanged for fourteen hundred years, the Koran deals with man and his ultimate goal. The theme of the Koran consists of three fundamental ideas: Oneness of Allah, Prophethood and life after death. The success of human beings on this earth and in the life hereafter depends on obedience to the Koran teachings.



Part Two.


Five: Could You Be Loved.


How can life be complete without love? How can i write this story if there's no one to dedicate it to? Few people write for fun, usually there's someone in mind, someone to share these words, and someone to read them. Beauty is an inspiration, a face in a crowd could be enough to get your hands working, the tap-tap of a keyboard is a sensual feeling, for the writer, and of course the words, conversations we wish we were having. It's the next best thing, for some, the only thing. Love can be expressed in words, emotions come out of the page and caress your mind, taking you deep inside, deep inside yourself, hopefully we can journey into your soul, sweet soul music! Who we choose to dedicate remains a mystery, anonymity bar a name, we invite the voyeur in and entertain, the dedicatee has the pleasure of exhibition without the embaressment, or the attention, privacy is ensured. We are like lovers, playing with our andience, playing to a crowd, playing with their emotions. We want to be observed, but we must remain anonymous in order for the illusion to work, the love affair depends on speculation and rumour. We can attain celebrity, even fame, many authors are questioned as to whom their work is dedicated to, but like every magician, these words are never spoken, for the circle will be broken and the magic, magic no more. Expression is everything, to evoke that feeling, to create that image, for it to become real, needs some truth, and that is the power of words, to create the truth out of an illusion. We are shaman, we perform miracles, we inspire and we tease, humour, ecstacy, sorrow, sadness and joy, we play every note and we use evey scale, we mock you, however, we love you.



Six: Turn Your Lights Down Low.


So i guessed you worked it out, that i've been thinking about you lately, and even though we're strangers, i feel a chemistry between us which tells me we could be friends. It always begins with friendship, in the last two weeks i've felt like i've know you for years, we just gel. You're an artist, a musician, i'm a writer, we're on a level. You love to play, i love to write. And although we both have a passion about our art, its the passion we evoke in our audience which turns us on. I'm like you, a slave to the masses, we only exist for these people, without them our efforts are wasted. We may love each other's art, but it's 'their' love we command, acceptance from the crowds, and our fans. You 'nailed' it last night, and i wrote the words spoken by Gabriel, we aspire to a higher goal, spiritually we are equal, our souls are laid to rest, on stage, in front of the keyboard, and our performance is judged only by God. Angel's from heaven, we can take the crowd to a place where anything is possible, a place where dreams come true, we unite, and we ignite, the fires of those souls who are willing to listen. Perfection is our art, every note you play, every word i write, we are observed at every moment, how far can i take you, where will you lead me? I follow the path to wisdom, like many before, and these words take me to places i wish you could see, my heart is an open book, my knowledge for you to share, closer to you, and to God.



Seven: One Love/People Get Ready.


With her by my side, i slowly begin to see, all the things i'd thought i'd seen, all the things close to me, things i hold dearly. She reveals them to me once again, and this time i see them in all their glory, my life, as it was, there and then. Today i was born and forever in debt, to her, and what she knew. She was a seer and a saint, she taught by example, and what she knew, i have travelled far to know. And i love her wholeheartedly for her knowledge, that which she has shared with me, that which she has become, a women of knowledge, a warrior, a traveller. She takes me to a place i could only have dreamed, and truth is revealed, for now i am a man, no longer a boy, seeking truth. And truth comes at a price, a price she has paid, for she has paid many times, and one i am willing, for this is truth, this is love. I rest my soul beside hers, and i find peace. The burden of childhood is lifted as i rise, in all my spendid glory, i am awaken, no longer in slumber, far from dreams, and the truth takes me high above the clouds, i see mountain peaks, i see sky, i see the sun as she has never shone before, brilliant and bold, a circle, an eternity. And i wish we could stay forever, here, in this place, this place she calls home, and never, fallen from grace.



Part Three.


Eight: Exodus.


So many times i find myself on the road, on a journey, travelling. Its the source of all my wisdom, knowledge i have attained, measured in miles. And its not where you go, its how long you've been going, and some of us never stop, as we have no destination, we travel to survive, we travel to live. I have taken my readers on many journeys, and not all have been simple, not all have been easy, some required great effort and stamina, its a long road ahead of us and its getting dark. But i will safely say, all have been memorable, and what better than to have returned from an epic voyage with stories to tell, and memories to share. You know the feeling, you get back from your holiday with photos and memories, some say you need a holiday to recover, but you're always grateful that you went, grateful of that chance to experience life, life somewhere else. We all need this, many are lucky enough to make it a regular occurence, for others, it's gold dust, and not to be missed. Why do i burden a holiday with such capacity? Because a holiday is a journey, it's the closest most of us have come to travelling, and no travelling is not the same as a holiday, but we've all had holidays, not all of us have travelled. How and why is it that i have a demarcation between the two? Because on holidays you bring yourself home, travelling, you bring your journey home. Travelling is knowledge, it is experience, not that you don't learn something during a holiday, new experiences are a kind of education, like holidays are a kind of travelling, however, holidays are long forgotten after the event, travelling, the journey remains with you still. Usually a holiday is a break, a getaway, from something mundane like work, or home, travelling is a journey which takes you from where you are to where you want to be, travelling is a continuation of life, you never 'break' away, as you bring all your worries with you, and exchange them for an alternative, a fresh page, a new start, you put an end to your suffering, and adopt a new existance, far away from where you find yourself. So the next time you take a holiday, stop, and travel, and no longer, fallen from grace.



Nine: Concrete Jungle.


Jason lives in the city, he lives alone. He's lived there for three years, Jason is homeless. When his mother passed away, his father left him and Jason was made homeless. He was twenty when cancer killed his mother, he is now twentythree and the memories are distant, he lives in the city, like so many homeless, Jason is a survivor. He can often be seen sitting crossed legged on the pavement with a paper cup for company, ocassionally a passerby will throw a coin in the cup, Jason would look up and smile. He lived on what people didn't need, loose change, cigarettes, food, water. At night he would attend the shelter for homeless people, a charitable housing association which gave people without homes a nights sleep, safe and warm, far from their occupation, being homeless. He would meet all sort of people in the association, runaways, homeless, victims of domestic violence and abuse, travellers. The atmosphere in the association was always calm and friendly, people would share their stories and a real community had developed, many had been coming to the association for years, some had been there longer than Jason, it was their home. Laughter and conversation was the reason most attended, company, after a long day struggling with life, life in the city. Jason knew most of the regulars, he was an instant hit with the wardens, they warmed to him, and he would help out where he could. A simple meal, tea and coffee, this was all available, drugs were out, junkies were welcome, however, the golden rule was no fixing, and no smoking. Usually people would fix before coming, this was allowed, the association didn't discriminate, there were counselors at hand, however, they were not there to make people quit their addiction, only to help. Jason was clean, he'd been a cannabis user for years, but when his mother passed away and his father left, he had no money, he had no home, so he gave up his only love in life for a second chance, a chance without drugs. His friends still smoked, however, he would see them less. Drink was allowed, but only in moderation, drunkards were turned away untill sober. During the day the association would run workshops, people had the chance to learn new skills, in the hope that they would be able to give up life in the city, there was a long list for council housing, and only those with a good record at the association would be put forward, not all homeless want to be housed, the asociation realised this, and treated those with due respect. Jason was on the housing list, he attended most of the workshops, anything positive, anything but life in the city. One day Jason hoped to qualify as a counselor, dealing with drug addicts, no longer, fallen from grace.



Ten: Easy Skanking.


For many years i have been coming to terms with mental illness, an illness which consumed my early adult life. It started with psychosis, voices in my head, it soon blossomed into full blown hallucination and delusion, schizophrenia is the term used to describe people who suffer from this fate. My delusions overtook my reality, reality, which for me, was limited and unfulfiling. My delusions took me to a place where i could escape the failure of my existance, an existance which was incomplete and undesirable. I gave up my beliefs for a world of delusions, delusions which were ultimately unfounded and untrue. I spent years in this wilderness, searching for answers to questions which had plagued my mind for years, questions on suffering and of nature, what was my reason for being, what was my nature? I spent the early part of this term questioning what i had done with my life, why i had distanced myself for humanity and chosen a path of knowledge, knowlegde which lead me astray, and made me give up life as we all understand it. And even though i still took part in life, my thirst was for my delusions and how far i could take them. I would spend hours in schizophrenic cyberspace, locked within rhetoric, within myself, and with my demons. I could not escape this, they would not allow me peace, i had to converse to exist, my nemesis had waged a war with my freedom, and now he demanded that i bow down to his account, his translation. He had introduced me to terror early on, he educated me on all the major terrorist factions, from the Islamists to ETA, these were the bread and butter of my delusions, i had been educated to undestand their purpose, and their reason, i knew their history and ultimately their future, that of bombings and 'holy war'. It was about to explode onto our tv screens, it was about to become reality. What i knew told me that it had been brewing for decades, that something was going to happen which would change all our lives and ultimatley, lead us to our future. This act would allow me to give up my delusion, and return to earth, with a bang. It felt like i had been away for a long time, deep sleep, and now, now was the time to awake and rejoin mankind. And that day i awoke to see planes crash into the twin towers, as we all saw it, on tv, and now i knew i had returned, the answers to my questions, yes, it was all true. My delusion was actually a reality, i had questioned so far that i had come full circle, from naive and innocent conjecture, to full blown reality, and more, because this was only the begining, this was genisis, from Bin Laden to Al'qaeda, it was all true. Holy war had hit out screens and now i had the pleasure of watching it, rather that working it, i was pleased that i was home, no longer, fallen from grace.



Part Four.


Eleven: Natural Mystic.


Give a little love, spead some joy, these are all things we can do in our lives to make the day a little better. We all have the ability to be positive about life, we all possess the power to lighten the load, and make each and every day worth while. Why not smile at a passer-by, why not wave when you see someone you know, human contact and communication is everything, each interaction plays a chapter in our lives, the next person you meet could turn out to be a friend, and talking to strangers, well, i was told not to do so, but hell to it! some of my best friends are 'strangers'. Eye contact is also important, always look a person in the eye, it leads to places one can only dream of, the eyes tell more about a person than what they wear, or what they are saying, only the eyes can transmit the hidden feelings of a person, because of our interpretation, because of our evaluation. Situatons where people gather can be fruitfull, there is usually common bond between these people, and we can use this to mingle, pubs, bus stops, concerts, these places are full of casual acquaintances and the converations are usually upbeat and joyous, people love to comment and analyse. So, join in and be part of it, conversations are like journeys, you know where you are going but don't know how you're going to get there, many magic moments are had in the passing, live for them, no longer, fallen from grace.



Twelve: Stir it Up.


Why do i write? I've often asked myself this question. Is it to fulfill something missing in my life, maybe to reach out to people, to aid and inform my friends. Somethings are hard to talk about, even to the closest of companions, friends are always there to listen, but can i really see myself telling them my life's story? So i choose to write, it fills the void between my life and the fiction that i would call my life, and we all invent a fiction, we all have delusions. Luckily i have friends which are good enough to give their time to read my work, and to give feedback, and this has compelled me to explore further the thoughts which i have, and the stories i tell, my friends are the reason i write. What do i want to achieve with my words? Well, entertainment is essential, but more than that, knowledge and wisdom, these are the goals, like the conversations we used to have and the memories we used to share, now, we wouldn't have labelled these as education, however, looking back they were more than that, they were the lifeline of experience, they were what made life, unconscious, subconscious, whatever way you looked at it, my experiences, shared with my friends, were the building blocks of life, reeducation, and learning to the extent of giving up 'our' education for something else, something more than real, more than life. What do i mean? I'm trying to express something which changes life, takes you outside of empiricle experience, and allows you to reach beyond the transient, takes you to a place where you had to have been to really understand, its a place we've all seen and a place we all recognise, it's that unspoken place where everything is smiles and laughter. Yes, you all know that place, like when you talk about an experience where you were truely out of it, or when you were totally lost, we've all been there, freedom, and fear, all at the same time, whether drug induced or simply spontaneous, we've all been there. So let me take you back, not only there but beyond, let all life be lived in that space, let that memory take over and consume our being, for i believe that it is that moment that makes life real, it is that moment which inspires us to act and react, not unconsciously, but consciously, and then we can truely say we are alive, no longer, fallen from grace.



Thirteen: Time Will Tell.



I end this journey with a story, a story which i have told on many occasions, it's a story which i recall everytime i travel, it's a journey which i take everytime i write.Its the four noble truths of buddhism, its the middle way, that all life is suffering, a result by our thirst, or desire, and the cessation of this suffering by following the eightfold path, the path to enlightenment, and nirvana. Buddha gave us these truths and taught them till his end, and they have been taught ever since, to all that would listen. However, i must change the story to adapt to modern life. I was the Buddha, yes, i was the enlightened one. I say this because we all are Buddha, each and everyone of us is Buddha, we are all born and we will all die, however, in our lives we will all reach the realisation that pleasure and pain are just two sides of the same coin. We all know of pleasure, and we have all experienced pain, no matter to what extremes, we have all lived. Some live a pleasureable life, some live in pain, but we all choose the middle way, because we all have consciousness, we all have nature. All of us have compassion for others, and we all love unconditionally, we may not think we do, but we do, we all belong to humanity, and we all have feelings for our fellow man. It's a condition of mankind to help others, not to see suffering, and to help those who are less fortunate than ourselves. If we are lucky enough to live a life without suffering, we will welcome the suffering of others, and try to bring about its end, we all have charity, we all have hope. If we are the cause of suffering, guilt will take over and we will feel sorry, the Law of Karma dictates what is, and what will be. We will not get away with our deeds because retribution will always find us, whether good or bad, it all evens out in the end. This is not a story as such, it is my story, there are no events, there are few characters, less a plot, but there is a wealth of understanding and knowledge, hopefully you will recall you own (story) and tell it once more, no longer, fallen from grace.



To be continued...


By Steven KK Li

God Fearing Man: Fixin' to Die

God Fearing Man: Fixin' to Die.



Intro.


Is it where i'm up to... or what i'm up to? Let me explain. It's 2006, summer, that you all know, and everything is in place. I'm cutting it fine, but i'm on time. It'll be the tenth anniversary of the day that changed my life, soon, and i'm begining to reminise, about that time, and the time in between. Once i was lost, and now, i'll safely say, i'm found. I was fighting for my mind and now, and now i'm found, no longer... fixin to die. I have a message of hope, for all those who were concerned, and a message of doubt, for those who were sure. Strange times indeed! Talk of giving in and giving up, that just ain't my style, as you all know, bigger and better things come to mind, as once i conquered (and i will again), the thought's in my mind and the illusions we all share. It's gonna be a rollercoster ride, so sit tightly and we shall begin.




PART ONE.



Give a Man a Home.


We are all blessed, some with virtue, others with stupidity, but we are all blessed. When we talk of talent and ability, it's not always of what we can do, and what we have achieved, but what others have done, in our place, and how we have learnt from their example, no longer can we plead ignorance, for we have been taught, and no longer do we follow the path of the lost ones, for we have seen the light. And it's no secret, we all know the truth, but to find it, that's a quest for the holliest of grails, the blood line of your life. But don't dispair, help is at hand, we have faith, for it is our beliefs which will bring the truth to our feet, of what we are and why we are here, no less, faith is the the key to our survival.
There's so much i want to say, but i choose my verse with care, so as not to mislead. I want to bring you to where i was, and to where i was going, to find my place, in the hope that you will find yours too. If you are lost, make it your home and feel welcome as you are, and if you are found, share your light with me, so i can see where you have been. Followers of the faith will have a head start here, but if you are new to this experience then let me expand. We are historians searching for truth, and by that we mean those experiences which have shaped your life, those bolts of lightening which have brought you here, to these word, and their (hidden) meaning. Now, we may argue that we have led a normal life, and that nothing special has occured, i beg to differ, we have all led extraordinary lives and that simply being here is enough to guarentee that your life has changed because of some event, past or present, which enables you to read these words, and please understand that your life is every bit a special as mine, else you would not be here, reading these words. Patience is a virtue, that i will concede.
Let me continue... your life is not just a series of events which ultimately lead to your demise, you are born, and yes, you will die, however, you will change history with you life, shaping the events which will change all our lives, simply because of faith. What you believe will influence your fellow man, and if you don't take it to your grave, then your friend may. And feel free to believe in whatever you wish, as it is not what you believe, more how you believe which matters. Your beliefs define who you are, they describe your personnality, and more often than not, determine how you are percieved by others, this is what people are remembered for, because this is what we all are remembered for. Faith unites all of us, because it is faith which describes our truth, not our illusion.



Fight For Your Mind.


I was sure, i was so sure, sure of myself and of those around me, sure of my place and sure of my beliefs. Each day had it's place, and we worshipped the sun and moon for their light, and their life. Night followed day, we awoke and then we would rest. A life in a day, everyday. Sure of the sun, and grateful for the moon, we lived our life in cycles, with that of our celestial bodies, and we meditated on suffering, for we had none, blessed by our friends and family. Nirvana has been spoken of, and we felt that our knowledge had granted us a ticket to that island paradise, a place where time has stood still for centuries, and nothing can disturb it's peace. However, we are only visitors here, and we are but travellers, for this place exists only in ones mind, tomorrow i will awake, and again, fighting for my mind... and only truth can survive the journey from this place, this place of plenty, for only truth can transend the void, night and day.
So life, as it was, perfection and truth, brought humbly to it's feet, stumble and crawl to the gateways of confusion, and once again, to the doors of suffering. Knock loudly, for nobody will hear you, when you enter, and shout, for in the confusion, we may not hear you come. But you are always welcome, don't forget, your presence has been foretold, with that of baited breath. We sent for you, for we knew that you spoke the truth, we pleaded with her to let you go, so that you could relieve us of our suffering, as you did with her, and for your sacrifice, we would reward you with immortality and a place, a place where you could carry on your faith, not in a foreign land, but here, in you own, the place of your birth. So bring your faith, pack your beliefs, and say good bye to your friends, for they shall be friends no more, for you shall die in this land, and become an angel of faith, and a teacher of truth. Blessed by your fate to bring your ancestors home, for their work is done, and now the motherland can be one, one with your blood.
This i cannot except, the honour is too much for one so simple, too great for one so humble. Let me come as i am, please, with my rags and my charms, for i have no gold, stolen from me, and i have no money, given to others. Don't ask me to speak, for i say little, and don't ask me to eat, for i have no hunger. I come to rest, and to teach. My time is now yours, and how i spend this time will depend on your needs, and desires, i want of nothing but to serve my master, that which you now are, and will always be. All i ask is that i be given shoes to walk and water to drink, these are my needs, not my desires. I will rest in my bed and not be a burden to you, for you have family, and i, faith. My temple is my mind, i carry it wherever i go, but i ask that each night, i return it to the place which i call home.



Power Of The Gospel.


The power of words, and their meaning, are the subject of this chapter. For so many years now, words, written and spoken, have changed my life. They have opened doors of perception, and have lead me into whole universes, where illusions exist, illusions, which have determined my life. Words have shaped my mind, they have lead me astray, and carried me home, as only words have the power to overcome truth, truth which i find in silence, silence and solitude. All words are spoken, spoken with emotion, and it's this emotive force which moves me, moves me from my center, to that of my peripheral. On the outskirts, close to the edge, that's where illusions exist, truth lies motionless, whilst illusions accelerate and perturb, they create change and therefore influence our ground state, that of perfection and the transcendental. The words i choose will allow you to find your center, at least that's where i hope all roads lead, if your feel disturbed by my words, then the truth is lost, and you will have to start again! My aim is the transcendental, and thus the permanent, that which is truth, that which is you. If you feel disturbed, you are too high, the destination is ground. My goal is silence, to speak but not to be heard, these words will induce a trance, that which you will recognise as Buddha Nature.
You may ask, is it possible to find peace, simply by reading? I say yes, because all words are spoken within, your heart will hear and your mind will listen, simply by connecting your heart and mind, you will find the doors to your Buddha Nature, of course you should be sat half-lotus on the floor, but we shall forgive you if this is not your usual position. Life begins with this 'space', for this is your truth, with heart and mind in peace (with words), Buddha Nature is easy to find. If you have doubts, simply stop reading, and enjoy the silence, the silence and solitude.
I am a teacher, but so are we all. What i teach is an ancient art, it's called 'sitting quietly'. Personally i prefer to listen to music, and although this sounds like contradiction, it is not, because i am still, 'sitting quietly'. Others prefer to read, and so i write, as i choose to serve (the master).




PART TWO.



Welcome to the Cruel World.



Noble monk, i see you have travelled far to find yourself on this road. I say this because i too have travelled, but now i have arrived and i travel no more. Humble servant, you are right in your observation, yes, i have travelled many months. I have travelled from Amdo and have been on this road for nearly a year. What is your name, kind servant? I was born Chen Zhu Wai, however, i have little use for my name noble monk, less for whence i came. Brother Chen, we all have an origin, all roads must begin from somewhere, if you care not for your birth, then where may i ask, is your destination? Noble monk! i have arrived! My birth is ignorance and my destination is here! where i stand on this forsaken road. As you are, i too was seeking answers, but now that you have arrived, i ask no more. What is it that you seek, here on this road? Brother Chen, i have been chosen by my sangha to seek for enlightenment on this path, and too seek a master who came before me. What is the name of your master? I have seen many on this road, maybe i can be of help. Brother Chen, my master is called Rinpoche, of course i don't know him by his birthname, but he is known as Master Rinpoche by my sangha. He left at the age of fifteen to seek enlightenment, he was a talented but stubborn monk, he studied 'the self' until he fully understood his true nature, then left. And Rinpoche walked this road? Yes, we have heard stories about a monk who taught 'the self' to people on this road, he became a local legend and is well known as a teacher who spoke the truth. And where is your master now? Brother Chen, we don't know. One day he just disappeared, people who would visit him and listen to him teach say that one day he just disappeared, nobody has seen him in over ten years. Noble monk! I am Rinpoche, the master that you seek! Your journey has come to an end, however, your path has just begun. This road will teach you 'the self' and i will be your guide untill you too realise your enlightenment. Let us begin...
The self is this path, the self is 'this' road, this road that you find yourself on. But 'the self' is all roads, its is every path. The self is all who travel on this road and all who live on it, but 'the self' is everyone and everything, on all roads. To understand this let me describe your journey. You travelled from your sangha in Amdo to seek a great master who also travelled from said place, you seek this master, on this road, in the hope that you will find enlightenment. That is your journey. If you suceed in finding your master, you will realise your end and hope that the master will teach you his truth. 'The self' is every journey, seeking every master who ever left, and to fully understand 'the self' you must begin each and every journey searching for truth, not just your master. On your journey, you will find only yourself and your master, that is your ignorance, believing that your journey will uncover the gate to knowledge, it will not, you will have to return to your sangha to find 'the self' which you left, many moons ago. Your journey is two fold, for you will have to return to whence you came to realise 'the self'. With this knowledge i bid you farewell and hope you have a pleasant journey!
Master Rinpoche! I have realised 'the self' and i must return to Amdo and my sangha to tell them the good news! The self is 'the self', and until i can give both up i will never find my enlightenment. My journey is so and i must return to realise its truth, however, your journey is 'the self' that which you can never give up, only when you give up this, 'the self', can you find nirvana, a place which i know you are now. Your wisdom will be taken home to the sangha in the hope that we can all find our true nature, you are living in nirvana because you gave up 'the self' in exchange for the road, i find myself on the same road but 'the self' says i must return to complete my journey, only then will i be enlightened and nirvana shall be but beyond the gates of the temple. Bless you Brother Chen for you are the Buddha, the Teachings and the Sangha.



By My Side.



There are many roads, there are many journeys, each has a place in your history, no less, each journey will guide you further on your path. We take each road with anticipation, we take each corner with hope, every road leads to a place and each place has learning. Travelling is an education, one may say, if we are lost, we must find, and when we are found, the next turn could lead us to doubt. I have travelled many roads, so must we all, and many roads need to be travelled in order to find learning, a simple walk can lead to revelations about oneself, as long as the journey is taken in the correct mode, and by that i mean, seeking for truth. Now, nobody goes for a stroll seeking truth, however, every step reveals truth and at every turn. A walk to 'clear your mind' has no destination, you always intend to 'come home', but what is it that can be found in those steps, what is it that you can experience in that journey which makes the circle complete? Like the master says, 'each journey is twofold', outward and inbound, at some point you will have realised your 'destination' and plan to return, else your mind will be 'released from its bondage' and again, you will return. We can all except this as so, however, let us analyse the journey of the master. His journey is outbound, with no return. He leaves because he has realised his destination, and has been released from bondage 'before' he leaves, the journey is just the conclusion of that understanding, he chooses to travel, as is life... destination, anywhere but home.
The self is ego, that's what the master teaches us. Bondage to time, parents, names, homes... the list goes on. We are all born with an ego, but this is not identity, no, it is a cloud which always finds us and prevents us from seeing a clear blue sky, that of our true nature, Buddha Nature. To lose ego is to lose oneself and to find Buddha Nature, you must do this if you are to travel, for the burden of ego will prevent you from ever leaving. Travelling is not a holiday, for when you return, that is when the adventure begins. Each journey will take you futher, closer, to Buddha Nature, and only a master knows this as truth, for only a master will never return.
A great journey can begin with a small step, take a walk, and believe that you will never return. At some point the clock will start ticking and your bed will call. Have you ever entertained the idea of running away from home? Where, when, how... all these questions will invade your mind because now, you are asked the question, can is survive? here in the wilderness? We have all experienced this, either as a child, or god forbid, as an adult, and i say this because i would assume an adult knows his place, however a child is lead to question. Buddha Nature is a child, he knows no home, he has no parents, nobody to depend upon, and nobody to depend upon him, freedom is his cause and enlightenment is his goal, not a pillow. 'It will make a weak man mighty, it will make a mighty man fall', are you experienced? This is not part of our education, no, this is part of our freedom. Take a walk and see how long it takes for the clock to start ticking, this is burden, this is ego.



One Road to Freedom



Farewell, my friends, for i must leave, now. I must travel afar, but i will always be close. Some may ask why? you can choose any path in life, and you can always return, you know you are welcome. Yes, but i will die on this journey, never to return. My life has ended, here, with you my friends, time will pass and i will be but a memory, always in your hearts but never at your door. I am going to die, in a place far away, no one will save me for no one will know, my passing will be a great day for it will be the end of your learning, the inward journey can now begin. I must begin my teaching, and i can only do this after my death. I must pass this life onto you, my friends, and give myself to my destiny, that of my last journey, and my last breath. The sun will shine for me as i walk my last road, beyond the mountain lies a place where i will find truth, a path many have taken before me, and a truth many have chosen as the cessation of suffering. It is the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism, that all life is suffering, its cause being our 'thirst' and desires, now i must quench this thirst and bring an end to my suffering, the cessation of all suffering, by following the path to enlightenment, namely The Middle Way and The Eightfold Path. Have faith my friends! and Ten Thousand Miles without a Cloud.


Farewell, my friends.

THE END.



(Inspired by the music of Ben Harper and The Innocent Criminals.)




PART THREE.



Walkin' With Jesus.



Johnny was one messed up kid. He lived one day at a time, with no purpose but to awake, and then sleep. Days would pass when he would achieve nothing, no job to go to, no friends to visit, no family, just a neglected kid with delusions of grandure. But man, was he cool! He was liked by everyone, nobody could put him down for being lazy and useless because he loved life, at least his life. Ask him what he wants to do in life and he'd just smile, he knew 'this' was life, and if nobody understood, that was because nobody was 'alive'. He was of course 'dead' to life (as we would call it), but his delusions allowed him the freedom to take on a more important role, that of the messiah. Ask the question, if the messiah was alive today, what would he do? His answer would be, save the world!
Now, nobody believes that they are the messiah, at least nobody with any sense, however, they say that an unstable mind can associate their own suffering with that of Christ, and compassion for the Saviour leads to a complex where you believe you are the Second Coming. Easily done if you have little else in life other that a deluded mind. Such minds cannot see their future because there is no cause and action, an episode of psychosis may occupy your mind, however, nothing will amount, because nothing exist, it's purely in your imagination. Hallucinations may seem real at the time, and they may lead you to commit an action, however, that action, being the result of something made up, will ultimately end up as senseless and stupid. You think the hallucination relates to reality, in truth, nothing can be further from the truth, there is no god, and you are not the saviour, just a messed up kid. You will see signs everywhere, as your delusion convinces you that you could be, even though what little common sense you have tells you the contary, that there is more to life than reality, faith has a downside, what you truely believe could just be you're downfall, then who would look stupid. So what of Christians, Muslims, Jews... well, they just believe, their faith is a discipline, there is structure to it, and it's teachings lead to a fullfilling life. Schizophrenic faith is ultimately fruitless, nobody else believes what you do, because it's pure delusion. There is no Church of the Schizophrenic Nazerene, because there is no nazerene, just schizophrenia. And it's church? well, that is the facinating feature of this mental state of being, many schizophrenics believe in the same delusions. So welcome to Church...
Many schizophrenic explain themselves by talking about a world i can only describe as one and the same as 'intelligence'. Now, that is not to be mistaken for a world of clever people, no, we have now been 'classified' and if i told you, i would have to kill you. You see, i have worked out that i am so 'classified' that not even i can truely know my own identity. I think only the President of The United States and a few other people know of my status, and they are either 'dead' or 'hiding'. Are we getting closer? After Christ, you are the second most important person in the world, for you hold the key to survival, or the end of the world. Yes, give up God, he can't help us, with his creation and angels, no, this is down to you, soldier, you must stop the killing, and bring about peace on earth! Thus, the mission, to 'see' how it will all end, if we don't start talking about 'how' to bring about an end to the world's problems. Any idea? Well, let's start by watching the news, and see if i can't work out who is about to bomb the US. It's easy when you have the power of hindsight, but i believe that more schizophrenics 'knew' about 911 than you average Joe. Why? Because that's all we've been 'watching' for the last few years, ever since we attended Church. This is a bold statement, but i feel the medication will ease the pain, the pain of faith, faith you only get from going to Church.



Lord Can You Hear Me?



I'm a good person. I never meant to hurt anyone, least of all myself. But i was lost, the questions i asked of myself were foolish and pointless, you taught the way, you gave us the example, but i was so sure that you were false, and i was seaching for truth. Lord, forgive me. I ask for your pardon, as i have lost faith, faith in you and faith in your kingdom. You gave me a sign and i broke the law, sent back as a criminal, only to start on this road again, the road to truth, the road to faith. I suffered in your name when all you wanted me to do was smile, my compassion was misguided and it lead me to believe that the devil himself was at war with me! I have no hope, less faith. All i know is waking from a dream where you were but a memory, and that i had died. But you gave me a second chance, my resurrection was a sign of you love, that i will never forget, for now i live, and forever, fixin' to die.
I believe in heaven and hell, for you have taken me through both, and this was not a test, you only wanted to show me the way. When i was at the crossroads, with nothing but fear, you made an angel of me, yes, you did, so i could travel both roads and make my choice, and Lord, i travelled for many years, blinded by delusion, lost in the light, with no direction home, only to return, back to the crossroads, where i had wisdom and hindsight, a mortal man with his life in front of him. I hope i chose wisely, and now, travel with faith, back to you my Lord, my messiah. And when you return, i will be here, with a smile on my face, and you will know i chose the right road, for we are friends, and i shall greet you with open arms, and say, 'Bless you my Lord, i am you servant'.
Faith can take you far, it can open up many roads, but beware, some roads are not for the faint-hearted, they require courage and compassion, you may think that life has dealt you a cruel hand, and that you lord has forsaken you, but behold, He is there to guide you back, back to faith. This i believe, as all of us do, for He will return and forever, fixin' to die.



Amen.



Sweet Jesus! Take me home, back to my childhood, when we had no fear, when each and everyday was heaven sent. Lord, give me shelter, shelter from the horrors of this life, and the next, and Lord, be me friend when all is lost. I ask this of you as you are the only messiah i know, the only healer, and prophet. Lord, wipe away the tears which flow from my eyes, for the ones i have lost, and for the ones i will lose. Lord, can you hear me now?
Take my hand, Lord, take my mind, for i have no use for it now, i have fallen deep, deep into slumber. And Lord, wake me when this is over, for i can hear no more, the cries of this world. I sleep to find peace, as it is all i know, peace from my mind and from the screams i hear when i close my eyes. Open your heart, one last time, as the eyes of the world are upon me now. They ask, what will you do? what is you next move? I tell them i am tired, that i cannot think, please leave me in peace so that i can think! Bless this world for i am leaving it now.
Awake! I will give you a sign, so that you know i am here, that i am true. You have chosen your path wisely, the path of the faithful, but you must see that there are many hardships to experience, this is not heaven, no, this is the path of a man of faith. There is a war to be waged, it is a war of good against evil, no less it is The End of Times. Many have spoken about these times, that this will open the way to my return, but before this, we must endure much suffering, and only faith will see you through to the end. There is talk of the false prophet, the deciever, no less Satan himself will appear. We must recognise his mark, for only those with the mark of the Devil will be allowed to trade. But don't be fooled, this is not a trade in which you can profit. You must pray for what you believe in, you cannot bargin with Him as he will create armies on both sides, a great war will be waged between the faithful, and He will lose. I will return and He will be defeated. Have faith.




PART FOUR.



Feel So Sad.



Ahmed was nine, he lived with his brothers on the West Bank. He had lost his mother and father in an Israeli air raid on their home two years ago, he is now looked after by his two elder brothers, they are both members of Hamas. His future was in his own hands now, and he wanted to be a martyr (shaheed), a suicide bomber. Ahmed was a follower of faith, he read from the Koran and attended the mosque, he would pray five times a day, the loss of his parents confirmed his faith to the point where heaven was just a day away, for tomorrow he would blow himself up at a busy market stand, hopefully taking out many Israeli civillians. His brothers prepared him for his last evening, Ahmed washed his hands and feet, read from the Koran and said prayers, after a modest meal, he went to sleep.
The morning broke with a brilliant sun, the brothers went to morning prayers and then returned to their home. They shaved Ahmeds head and dressed him in loose fitting clothes. The 'belt' was well hidden, no one would suspect a child. Ahmed smiled as he left his family, they waved him off as he got into the car which would take him to his destination. The car stopped fifty yards away from the place where Ahmed would enter paradise, a brief good-bye followed by 'Allah Akbar!' 'God is Great!' the last words of all shaheed, Ahmed would say this with true conviction, he has faith, he has truth, he has destiny, ' Allah Akbar!' 'God is Great!'
The operation was a success, fifty-six Israelis killed, many more wounded, women and children amonst the dead. The Israeli Prime Minister condemed the bombing, Hamas claimed it for themselves, the brothers were pleased, Ahmed in paradise...



All of My Tears.



Peace go with you brother, for your freedom, for you right to defend your land. I hope you find paradise as your god has promised, and i hope your people find the peace they hunger for. My heart is with your family as they parade your picture through the streets of Palestine, a hero, a martyr, a shaheed. Finally you must realise your own purpose in life, and your place, in paradise, along with that of your parents. Blessed are those with faith in their hearts, as we all die a little, day by day, each and every day. Your name is spoken in the homes of Palestine, there is much celerbration, people were given hope, to fight another day, as you did, and in your absence, they will build a new future, for your brothers, for you sisters, so that they too can be shaheed, and light be upon your people, for they die everyday, but never in vain... peace go with you brother.



Take Good Care of It.



I return to words, for they have misled many, some to seek solitude, others into delusion, many, to their deathbed. But where else (i ask) is there to go? I seek words to find peace, away from the world of foolish thoughts and illusions, into a place where we can believe, and have faith, faith in myself and others. I seek the Grail, I seek the Light, i find only words, for it is words, and only words, which can comunicate to me, the true feelings i have for you, my friends, and it is in words, that i seek refuge. There is no preacher at my door, no one to canvas my thoughts, but there will always be a teacher, to pass on my message, a message of hope, for all who are ... Fixin' to Die.




with love,

Your Friend and Companion....

Steven



THE END