Neo-Human

Here I stand, unconquered and unconquerable.
Earth-souled, spirit-born,
Water slain, Fire-anointed, Blood-bought.

Immortal in mortal frame.
Beloved son of All-Father.
Bearer of the Most Great Spirit.
Ambassador of the Eternal City,
(Beyond measure of science or vision of shaman).

I am lower than the least,
Yet I am a Royal Priest.

I am weak, but the All-Powerful One strengthens me.
I am foolish, but the All-Wise One guides me.
I am ignorant, but the All-Knowing One instructs me.
I am poor, but the All-Sufficient One provides for me.

He gives me the Words of Peace;
That still the violent,
That calm the anxious,
That strengthen the faltering.

He gives me the Words of Power;
That break the curse,
That banish the dark,
That turn back death.

He gives me the Words of Mercy;
That free from guilt,
That heal shame,
That restore hope.

He gives me the Words of Truth;
That reveal secrets,
That restore justice,
That destroy deception.

I am but one among millions,
From ages past to future unseen,
From furthest east to furthest west.

I offer my hand in brotherhood,
And call you to join All-Father's family,
By blood, and water, and spirit, and fire,
Through death to life without end.

He That Rose to Heaven's Height

This is another Blaze Community protest song.

He that rose to Heaven's height
The throne of God to claim
Not content with Glory's light
Was cast to Earth in shame

He who in Eden's garden walked
In innocence and peace
Chose to be as God Himself
Won sin and death and disease

They who together in their pride
Built a tower to Heaven
The tower fell, the people scattered
And throughout the earth were driven

The King of Babylon surveyed
His domain, the gift of God
Boasted in his arrogance
So madness came upon him

Those that scorn the gift of Grace
Their own law they command
Imaginations of fleshly men
To what will they be condemned?

The psalmist proclaims 'Trust not in man,
For even the great will fail you.
Put your faith in God alone,
For only He can save you.'

We have one King, Judge and Lord
His is our culture, him we obey.
No other can demand our loyalty
No other can share His throne.

Dare we trust ourselves
With our brother's soul?
When we know we, full of sin
Can fall as easily as he?

The Spirit, our Teacher, Discipler, Guide
The One who truly knows our heart.
He is our Healer, our Unity, our Power.
What man thinks himself better?

Dare we judge where God has not judged?
Or say No when God says Yes?
Dare we obstruct the will of God
When it is against OUR ways?

Or do we in self-righteous pride
Think ourselves God's equal?
Is this the life for which Christ died?
The tyranny of the enemy?

Do we shut the world outside
But keep the flesh within?
Do temper, jealousy and greed abide
Where a spoonful of sugar is sin?

Better a vegetarian meal where love is
Than the fattened calf with hatred.
Better to live in Christ's Grace
Than under the yoke of the Pharisee.

Hate the world, we are told,
But what is it we should hate?
The spiritual man may do all things
He needs only the Spirit to guide.

Hate the world, we are told.
But what is it we should hate?
Rules and traditions of worldly men
That bring judgement and division.

We're the Leaders of BCA

Before the Blaze Community collapsed and was reborn as the Wild Olive Shoot Community, a number of songs circulated, protesting about the Blaze Community Administration (or BCA), the top leadership under Christopher Stoneham. This is one of them.

We're the leaders of BCA
We're the ones that you must obey
We'll decide what you believe
We'll decide how you should live
[And if you don't like it...]
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We're the leaders of BCA

We're the leaders of BCA 
Say you're with us all the way
But if you've the inclination
To choose another denomination
[Well, we are the only true church, so...]
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We're the leaders of BCA 

We're the leaders of BCA
Our meetings last ten hours a day
Every one you must attend
And you must stay right to the end
[You're ill? That's no excuse, so...]
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We're the leaders of BCA

We're the leaders of BCA
You can only marry if we say
If we don't, don't worry mate
You can be a celibate
[But if you fall in love...]
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We're the leaders of BCA 

We're the leaders of BCA
Our authority and power hold sway
We're not your servants, we're your masters
At Godly living we're disasters
[But, if you challenge us...]
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We'll cast you out (we'll cast you out)
We're the leaders of BCA

We're the leaders of BCA
And we shake our heads in sad dismay
We're feeling rather numb as
Our members drop in numbers
[Is it because...]
We cast them out (we cast them out)
We cast them out (we cast them out)
We're the leaders of BCA

But when we stand before the King
He'll say 'To me you pray and sing.
But you've gone down your own way
When it's ME you should obey."
[And then...]
He'll cast us out (He'll cast us out)
He'll cast us out (He'll cast us out)
We're the leaders of BCA 

Wanderlust

As I wander through this land and see the faces of those I meet. Inquiring
Of their lives and loves and to hear their dreams. Inspiring
Me to seek again the high hills and low valleys. Exploring
The length and breadth and height and all the world adoring.

The High Wire

Friar James watched his novice, Simon, who was stomping and banging and clattering and showing all the signs of adolescent frustration.

"What troubles you, Simon?"

"I want to be free."

"And what is freedom?"

"Being able to do whatever I like. I'm tired of study, and chores, and lessons."

"Come with me, then."

Friar James took Simon to the Big Top of a circus, where he indicated the high wire act that was practising.

"Are they free?"

"Yes. Look how they twist and somersault."

"Do you see their practice harnesses?"

"Yes."

"Do you see the net below them?"

"Yes."

"That is why they can be free to perform on the high wire. If they slip, the harness protects them. If the harness breaks, the net protects them."

"But they don't use a harness when they perform in front of an audience."

"Nevertheless, what they can do without the harness is because they have practised with one. And there is still the net. So you see, when you yearn for freedom, remember that you cannot truly be free unless you recognise hazards and plan for them."

"But if those high wire performers wanted to avoid hazards, they would not be up there in the first place."

"A life worth living is full of hazards. To avoid them all, a person would have to avoid life. And that in itself is a hazard. To learn how to deal with hazards is to be confident and free of fear. So we must be willing to listen to those that have walked the path before us. What you perceive as limits to your freedom are the very things that make you free."

The Wall

I have seen you many times, Wall.
Monolithic, dark, and many storeys tall.
Made solid as granite by my fears
Of debt, doubt, disaster, and tears
But I know your secret after all these years

I used to hide, to fantasize
Dreams of dread that sleep denies
But though those fears had me so chained
Still I faced what was ordained
And dared confront what had me pained

That's when I found your secret, wall
For you are not an obstacle
At my approach you shrink and fade
At my touch you are unmade
And no longer am I so afraid

Ropewalk

It starts with fibres, weak and fragile.
The fibres dance around each other, ever closer, ever tighter.
Becoming yarns strong enough to mend.

The yarns dance around each other, ever closer, ever tighter.
Becoming strands strong enough to bind.
The strands dance around each other, ever closer, ever tighter.

Becoming ropes strong enough to haul.
Ropes, made of strands, made of yarns, made of fibres.
We, weak as fibres, draw together ever closer, ever tighter,
Becoming strong enough to move the world

Kiko the Clown

Kiko was a clown
He loved being a clown
He sang, and he danced, and he juggled, and he played tricks on people
Everyone loved Kiko, because he made them laugh.
And they gave him things.
They gave him food, and clothes, and money, and all kinds of things
Because they loved Kiko
And Kiko loved getting things.
Gradually he had more and more things, but it was never enough
The more he had, the more he wanted
The more he had, the more frightened he was of losing even the smallest thing.
He loved things more than he loved being a clown
So, he didn't sing, or dance, or juggle, unless someone gave him something.
The people around him became sad and poor
They wanted Kiko the cheer them up, but he just wanted the things they had.
One day, Kiko went into town, but he couldn't find anyone
He looked high, and he looked low, but there was no-one around
Then he heard crying from an alley
He went there and found a child weeping and weak.
He sang, but the child still cried
He danced, but the child still cried
He juggled, but it made no difference
So, he asked the child what was wrong
The child said she was hungry, she had not eaten in days
Kiko thought, I have plenty of food, I will give her some of mine.
So he did, and the child was happier
Then Kiko saw she was dressed in rags
Kiko thought, I have plenty if clothes, I will give her some of mine
So he did, and the child was even happier.
Making the child happy felt good to Kiko
Better than being a clown
Better than things
So, he went around town, giving away what he had to people who needed it
The people became happy
Kiko became happy
And he sang, and danced, and juggled, and all he wanted was applause

Joy Bringer

Happiness is the dancing fountain
But joy the spring that flows beneath

Joy is laughter
Joy is dancing
The hug of a friend
The kiss of a lover

Joy is birdsong
Dancing dragonflies
The smell of lavender
The touch of velvet

All this is joy, but it goes deeper

Joy is the mother holding her baby
Freshly delivered from the incubator.

Joy is the doctor's "All Clear"
Lifting the spectre of cancer.

Joy is the parent's open arms
Receiving the child long lost.

Joy rises from hope as the heart says
"They will save you. They will come."

Joy is a time of lucidity
Before dementia claims the loved one back.

Joy is the man on the mountaintop
Standing on legs made of steel.

May you find joy in every moment.

Private Room

You think of your mind as a private room
Somewhere to go to be alone
But the doors of your mind are open wide
And the uninvited just wander in.

Fleeting Impulses,
Faster than thought.
Shoot out your hand to strike or grab.
Use your voice to shout strange words.
Or turn your gaze to something lost
Or a treasure to be found.

Urges, nagging you to cut, smoke, inject or drink
To steal, and fight, and wreck, and burn.
Or maybe to call a wandered friend
Or repair a broken family bond.

Whisperers reveal hidden things
Words of knowledge, wisdom and truth
Or lies, doubts, self-loathing and fears
Encouraging words, flattering words
Words of hatred and revenge.

Inspirations: Born fully-formed.
Whole novels, grand paintings, and sculpture
Instruments of pain and torture
Science, maths and medicine
Crime and warfare and terror.

Fantasies: intoxicating dramas in your mind
Old conflicts endlessly replayed
And new ones forever rehearsed
Dreams of money, fame, sex, and power
With emotions as real as life,

But as substantial as cotton candy.

Passions: Strong emotion without cause
Lust and anger, jealousy and resentment
Thoughts clouded by smoke from blazing blood.

They come and they stay,
And we think they are us
We are their victims, their puppets
But, we have a choice.

The master became victim
So victim could be master
And our room can be cleared
And the door can be guarded

Then we decide who shares our mind.
Who guides our hand
And speaks with our voice.
And freedom and peace are ours.

This is The Life

Do you remember me?

The Million a Month Man,
The Golden Boy.
The Kid with the Midas Touch.
I bought houses and cars
Even had my own plane
And an island in the sun.
And I thought, this is the life

I partied with princes
And lunched with the stars
I was always on TV
In mags and rags
Wherever I was
Cameras clicked
And I thought, this is the life

I had lovers and stalkers
The bad and the mad
Crooks and hustlers
Brown nosers, Gold diggers
And all that I did
They put in the news,
You couldn’t see the truth for the lies.
And I thought, is this the life?

When you can have what you want,
With the stroke of your pen,
The value of things lose their meaning.
I got bored with the houses
Bored with the cars
Bored with the new girl each night
And I thought, is this the life?

My heart was a void
Empty and aching
Nothing could satisfy
No drink, no drugs
No gamble, no thrill
Nothing could make me feel human
And I thought, I’ll end this life

They thought I was mad
When I sold all I had
And vanished into the night
Some thought I was dead
But it has to be said
They were near enough right.
I thought, death to the old life

I slept on the street
But who did I meet
But homeless men with a heart
They showed me their ways
And within a few days
I had friends right from the start
And I thought, is this the life?

No money have I
Except what I beg
Or work for from day to day
And I share with my friends
Whatever fate sends
Life is so good, I could cry.
And I thought, this is the life.

To the aged and youth,
I tell you this truth,
It don’t matter if you’re rich or you’re poor.
It’s not the money that makes you rich
But the friends you can count on for sure.
This is the life.

Hatred

A sight, a sound, a word.
Blood turns to magma
Erupts in my head.
I look at them and want them dead.

I scream and shout, I swear and curse.
I want their pain, and far, far worse
I hear an insult in hello
See a threat in an offered hand

Bloody battles rage in my head
Endlessly repeating, no off switch
Fantasies of blade, and boot, and fist
Even when there's no-one there
Bloody battles rage in my head
Endlessly repeating, no off switch
No peace. No sleep.
No peace, No sleep.

--- Response---

You fool!
The mirror shows your true enemy's face,
The one that contorts and distorts your soul.
Those you hate are deaf to your thoughts,
They are blind to your fantasy,
They sleep in peace while storms wrack your mind.
They smile at you, greet you as friend

Stop.
Let barriers drop.
Let them have their say.
Listen, understand
Learn, befriend.

Wisdom flows from ear to mind to heart to hand.
Be forgiven and forgiver.
Take insults as humour.
Then peace, then sleep
Then peace, then sleep

The Climb

photo © Bradley Waller for openphoto.net CC:Attribution-ShareAlike

"Come on, shake a leg."

I pulled the bedclothes over my head.

"Come on, it's time for the climb."

I sighed noisily, twisted myself onto the floor, and stared downwards. Every move was an effort of will.

"Get dressed and get down here, there's no time to lose."

I did as I was told. On the table waiting for me was a feast. There were eggs, sausages, bacon, mushrooms, and a steaming hot mug of tea. It took me less than five minutes to devour it all.

I was feeling somewhat better as I put on my topcoat and my rucksack, and grasped my walking stick. Then he opened the door.

It was raining. The sky was black as night, and it was raining. Water streamed down the road as he marched out ahead of me.

"Can't we do this another day? We'll get soaked."

"Come on, will you? This is perfect."

After what seemed like hours, we reached the bottom of the footpath. Already I was soaked to the skin, but there was nowhere to go but up.

He was striding forward, bounding from one rock to another. I trudged on behind, wishing I was back in bed.

We had been climbing for an hour when we reached cloud height. It was like being in thick fog. Cold and wet. Breathing became difficult because of the water in the air.

I heard him call out to me, and followed the sound of his voice, being very careful where I stepped because visibility was so poor.

Gradually the fog cleared. That is, we were now above the cloud top. The sky above was deep blue, and the sun burned hot and bright. Below us was the expanse of cloud. I watched as wisps broke off and melted, or combined into greater clumps of cloud.

More walking, and we reached the summit. He was laying out on the grass, hands clasped behind his head, eyes closed and fast asleep. I did the same for a while, between times when I would be staring up into the sky.

Below us was the cloud, the darkness, and the rain. Above us, the sun, brightness and warmth.

I had fallen asleep again, when he shook me by the shoulder.

"Remember."

"Remember what?"

"When we go back down, and it is cold, or raining, or snowy, remember what you have seen here on the mountain top. Carry it with you."

The rain clouds had been burnt off by the sun, and we could see all the way to the valley below. The journey down did not take long, nor did the walk home.

As I went to bed that night, he gave me a picture of a rainstorm, which bore the words:

Above the clouds, the sun still shines

The Caterpillar and the Butterfly

Fred was asleep, dreaming caterpillar dreams. He dreamt of eating succulent green leaves, of laying in the sunshine watching the clouds float by. When he woke up, he saw the silk sheet that surrounded him. Slowly, so slowly, he tore it open and eased his body out. Something was wrong. He felt very, very strange. He couldn’t feel all his legs. He looked down. He only had 6 and, instead of the short, stumpy ones that kept him safely attached to the leaves he ate, they were long and thin. His body, too, had changed. Not the comfortable bulk that came from weeks of happy gorging, but slender and graceful. On his back were two wings in beautiful patterns of red and black and white. He stretched out in the heat of the morning sun, his wings spread and, caught in the wind, he flew for the first time.

Fred flew around the garden, but something was wrong. You see, Fred was still thinking like a caterpillar. He settled on a plant and tried to eat some of the leaf, but all he could do was lick it. The wind caught him again and whisked him into the air. So it was, that seeing his good friend Eric on a nearby nasturtium, Fred settled beside him. Now, let me tell you a secret. Butterflies don’t really like caterpillars. Caterpillars crawl on their bellies while butterflies soar through the air. Caterpillars eat rough leaves and stalks, while butterflies feed on the finest nectar from the most exquisite flowers. But Fred was still thinking like a caterpillar.

“Hey, Eric.” He said. His friend turned, not recognising Fred.

“Hey, Eric. It’s me. Fred.”

“Fred? You’re not Fred. Fred is a caterpillar like me. Not a flyer.”

“I tell you I’m Fred. Look, we’ve known each other since we hatched. We did everything together. I’m Fred. You’ve got to believe me.”

“What happened to you then? You certainly don’t look like yourself.”

“I’m not well, Eric. When I woke up this morning I looked like this. I can’t eat leaves anymore. There’s nothing to me. What can I do? I don’t like this. I want my old life back.”

Just then, another butterfly settled on a nearby flower. “What’s wrong, Butterfly?”

“I’m not a butterfly. I’m a caterpillar.”

“Well, you look like a butterfly to me. What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t been able to eat anything. I can’t hold onto leaves like I could. It’s all wrong.”

“But your life as a caterpillar is over. You have changed. You’re a butterfly now. You have to think like one.”

“I’m not a butterfly. I want to eat what I’ve always eaten. I want to be with my friend Eric. I want to be fat and full. I don’t like this.”

“But you can fly now. You couldn’t before. Isn’t that better than crawling? And have you drunk any nectar yet? It’s much better than leaves.”

“I’m a caterpillar. I may look like a butterfly, but I’m a caterpillar.”

For the next few days, Fred followed Eric around but Eric felt uncomfortable with having a butterfly as a friend and after a while the two parted. A number of butterflies tried to talk to Fred, but he sent them away.

Hungry and even thinner, Fred at last tried nectar for the first time. He tasted the sweet, flowery liquid and a thrill went through him. Fred suddenly realised that he was, indeed, a butterfly. He flew into the air out of pure joy and watched the ground fall away beneath him, then rush towards him as he hurtled down to another flower. He danced and tumbled trying a rose here, a tulip there, never getting his fill.

It wasn’t long before Fred forgot about his life as a caterpillar. He was now a butterfly, and would be for the rest of his life.

Fred had learned what we all must learn. Life is full of change and we can’t go back to how things were, no matter how good they seem. We have to accept the changes. Make the most of them. Sometimes, when the change comes from tragedy, it is very painful. But, when we live in the reality of the change, embracing the new opportunities, we discover courage and adventure we never realised was possible.

Follow Your Dream

Ah, listen to the songs and ballads. Hear what they sing.

"Follow your dream"

"If you want something hard enough, you will get it."

But, no matter how much a fox may dream of being an eagle, it will ever be a fox.

People are so discontent with who they are. They want to be younger, more beautiful, stronger, fitter. They spend their money and their time in an effort to be other than they are. Running away from themselves, so to speak.

Hah! I could tell you some stories.

The vet's boy that wanted to be a singer. He left the animals that needed him to pursue life as a singer of ballads. Well, that didn't last, it never does. Oh, the sheep and cattle that suffered, because he neglected his true calling for personal desires.

Then there was the nurse. She spent years caring for her patients, but, one day, she looked at herself and decided someone should care for her. She wanted to be beautiful; adored. And it happened. For years men doted on her and chased after her, yet she felt empty and unfulfilled. It was only when she returned to her patients that she was happy again.

A young lad dreamed of being an adventurer, of travelling the world and discovering new countries. He joined a ship bound for the lands far beyond the sea. He was ill for the whole of the journey. When they did arrive, he was put off the ship by the captain. He wandered the forests and was eventually bitten by a snake and died. If only he had been content to be a farmer, as his fathers were for many generations, he would have had a long and happy life.

There was a soldier, brave and courageous. He was the pride of his regiment. But that was not enough. He wanted to write poetry. So, he quit the army, and found lodgings in a tavern. He spent day and night writing verse after verse. He became a bard and went through villages and towns reciting his work. But, either his work was poor, or the people were not generous enough, because he did not earn sufficient to live. Starving, he stole food from a market, and was caught by his very own regiment, and faced the judgement of the law.

There are many other stories I could tell you, all of people whose lives, in their estimation, were not as they should be. When they tried to change, they became other than they were, and fell to disaster.

Like a fox leaping from a mountaintop -

Ubel (Evil)

I will use you and abuse you
I will tell you I love you
When I'm done, I'll shove you
Away

I am the centre, the peak, The Main Man
The Alpha, the only important one.
And you? Why should I care for you?
Unless you serve me.
Unless it suits me.

Mine is the only opinion that counts.
All I want is all I want. There is nothing else
There is no cause but mine.
My money, my ambition, my possessions, my power

I have my bonus, why care for the jobless?
I have my home, why care for the homeless?
I have my food, why care for the hungry
Take my kids, I want to party.

Scientists say you're all illusions,
Electrical sparks and chemical solutions
I exist. First and foremost
With every choice I remake the cosmos.

I decide what's right and wrong.
I make my own rules, do my own thing.
I lie, and cheat, and steal if that's what it takes
To get what I want from all of you fakes

But I can't feel,

I don't know what's real.

I want to be loved, but how can that be
When I've never loved anyone but me

I'm so alone in my universe.

Is anyone out there?

Rainbows to a Blind Man

Mr. Fox stretched himself luxuriantly, and gave a noisy yawn. His companion, always nervous, twitched, and settled. Mr. Fox watched, and smiled. He found his friend an endless source of amusement.

“Ah, that is a glorious rainbow over there; so vivid, so pure in colour. What say you, Mr. Mole?”

“Bah!”

“Why, Mr. Mole. What’s wrong?”

“Always you talk of these things. How blue the grass is, how green the Sun is.”

“No, no, no. The grass is green, Mr. Mole, green.”

“And the Sun?”

“Yes, that’s green as well!”

“BAH!”

“Oh, Mr. Mole. Please, don’t be upset.”

“I do not know of these colours. I cannot see. I have never seen. I have no wish to see. I am perfectly fine as I am.”

“I am very pleased for you.”

“In fact, how do I know these colours even exist?”

“Because I say so.”

“Bah!”

“Mr. Mole, Mr. Mole. Do you not believe me? I am hurt. Hurt I say.”

“You talk of a rainbow? A band of colours hanging in the air? What holds it up, then?”

“What do you mean? Nothing holds it up.”

“Well, how does it get there?”

“I don’t know. The Sun shines on the rain, and it appears.”

“How can I believe in something I cannot touch, feel, hear, or smell?”

“Because I tell you.”

“BAH! Rainbows! Colours! They don’t exist. They can’t exist. You’re mad, Mr. Fox, utterly mad.”

Mr. Fox smiled a wry smile to himself. There are some things that some people refuse to believe, no matter how true they are.