Timothy Leary and the Satanic Narco Men

Ai Timothy Leary, ivy towered pied piper of my youth! I remember you so well…

And in the legend to this day sung, they tell…

Repeat this famous line: you aren’t dead but out there, somewhere…

Looking in… And I’m wondering….

Is this the “Brave New World” you imagined?

Is this the evolution you desired to force by chemical enlightenment?

Did you see what became of the children who drank your “Magic Kool-Aide”?

What did you think would happen after “The Year of Peace and Love” became the past?

What did you think would remain after 1968?

I heard you talking in 1982 and it was evident, you still thought what you’d done was great!

A fine mind twisted by too much LSD! An old man still rambling about the destruction of society…

Truly, an aging reprobate…

Are you really out there? Have you seen the Satanic Narco Men of 2016?

The Counter Culture took over, man! Now, the Narcos rule! They’re the new establishment!

Dude! They rule! With an iron fist of violence, by the gun,

With the power of astronomical wealth!

Gained by selling your famous “Magic Kool-Aide” in every flavor and form…

Ai Timothy! I see your dreams coming true as society crumbles and nations fall,

To the madness brought on by so many chemically endarkened minds!

This is the “New World Order”…

Corruption maintains porous borders as great Narco Armies guard global trade routes;

Ensuring the flow of your “Magic Kool-Aide” (available in so many flavors) to a drug-starved world…

Did you know your little test would birth the world’s largest economy?

You, my Communist leaning mentor, who engendered this mighty capitalist’s black market,

If you’re out there… do you wish you could close the Pandora’s Box?

You who railed against Viet Nam, do you acknowledge the blood on your hands?

Are you able to number the innocents who’ve fallen? The collateral damage of the Narco Wars?

Everywhere now, there are “baby killers”. In this liberal world built on the amorality of science.

Conscious Evolution by chemically induced spirituality is a nightmare! A bad trip man…

But Timothy! The masses still dance to your tune! And respond by popping another pill…

For in this “New Narco World”, dealers often wear white coats and pocket prescription pads.

Every day new addicts are born and the cycle of abuse continues in our dysfunctional human family;

A family drowning in chemically empowered denial.

And Timothy? Before you dismiss this as the ramblings of a post-menopausal hag who back in 1970,

Took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and ruined her health with drugs…

Let me remind you; chickens come home to roost, and America’s chickens are on their way…

The Satanic Narcos who crushed Columbia, Guatemala, and Mexico will crush America and the world!

The only way to stop them is to starve them out by abstaining from drinking “Magic Kool-Aide”…

It is our sin bringing this decent into madness.

I know Timothy, you really are dead but Judgment Day is coming and you aren’t the only one…

Who must answer for the blood on your hands.

 

 

 

On the Day She Became an Old Woman

On the day Carol became an old woman, she shed several tears. Standing in the threshold of the last days of her life filled her with certain uncertainty. Though life is tenuous at any age, when old age comes everyone knows what comes next and there is no way to dodge death. This dreadful day came so suddenly yet also, gradually. Somehow, she didn’t think it would happen to her. Carol never could picture herself with grey hair and never accepted it. In fact she did everything in her power to remain young looking and deny the passing of time but on this day, reality couldn’t be denied. Would she live long enough for her hair to turn white or worse, fall out? Carol didn’t want to die but she didn’t want to be elderly either.

Carol gravitated toward the bed and overcome by this strange season in life, laid down and absent-mindedly, stared out the window, upward into the perfectly blue sky. It was early afternoon, she was tired and it felt good to lie down. She remembered when she never felt tired during the day and how hard she’d worked all of her life; all that was required of her to obtain this familiar, beloved place to relax and gaze at the sky, as she loved to do. Now, she had to think about letting it all go and down-sizing. Tears filled her eyes to the brim when she thought of the children and how far away they are now. She worked so hard at raising them, at doing for others, and now, that she is less capable of serving it seems she is mostly forgotten. Her life once noisy and full is now, quiet. Carol needs quiet at this age but misses companionship, camaraderie, and most of all, being needed. These days she and her husband had to focus on self-care and every day it became more time consuming. No matter the reason, a self-consumed life is a lonely life. She reminded herself to be grateful that she still had her husband and felt a bit of relief in the act of counting a blessing. Then she thought of the inevitable final good-by and the brimming tears over-flowed.

Sunshine streamed warmth through her bedroom window to relax Carol’s sore, stiff muscles and joints. She could see the very tops of the trees swaying in a gentle breeze, as she ebbed into a sorrowful sleep. Carol drifted into dreams and felt herself as she was inside, at the prime of life. It was a bright summer day in a special place. Towering mountains surrounded a valley with a lake in a green meadow. Just beyond the shore-line lay a beautiful forrest, with every kind of tree. The trees nearest the lake bore various fruits more luscious than any she’d ever seen or tasted. There was such peace in this place, a benign but powerful presence that quieted her every anxiety. Birds in free cacophony filled the air with the music of gratitude. Music so beautiful that Carol found herself also, singing. The lyrics flowed through her from the Presence and washed away every sorrow. Suddenly, she was aware of her husband standing beside her and taking her hand in his. Their eyes met in glowing smiles, they kissed, and then realized they weren’t alone. This beautiful place was filled with content, joyful people, all in the prime of life. It was evident there was no sickness here, no aging, no decay, and no death. “This is my home” was her final thought before she found herself awake.

Outside Carol’s window, the sun was fading in a peach and blue display and the tree tops were still. The atmosphere of her dream lingered in the feeling of that powerful Presence and she heard in her spirit; “Trust me Carol. You must let go of this world before you may enter this better place I allowed you to visit in your dreams. This isn’t the end but a new beginning, a revealing of eternity that is new to you now, but a reality that has always been. You belong to Me and everything you love and must let go of here, I will replace and multiply when you are finally home. Until then, continue to serve me. Reach out to others as you are able and point them to My Son. Though you must rest often now, give that time to prayer and meditation. I still have My purpose to work through you here. I won’t abandon you and I will see you safely, through every step of letting go. Then I will safely, see you home.” Carol’s tired, sad heart flooded with the surety only, a beloved child knows and an acceptance of her circumstance that comes only, by trust in the Divine. Refreshed and revitalized, her thoughts turned to Jim, and as she had done innumerable times before, she got up to cook his dinner. Grateful that Jim was still with her and required this of her but also, reassured that should he pass on before her, she would never be alone. Their best days were yet to come.

Hope Purposed in Twilight

Such a sickly, small child, one in whom the light of life seemed as twilight, soon to fade. His mother wonders how this could happen to her. Her dreams of being loved unconditionally by the child she bore, shattered when this four pound boy made his entrance into the world, too soon. She longed for a strong son, who one-day would take care of her but this child was proving to be a bother. All the clothing she’d received from friends and relatives were much too large and she’d been forced to bring him home dressed in doll clothes. Her mother and sisters said she should be grateful that she was able to bring him home but when she compared her son to her nieces and nephews, she experienced no feelings of gratitude. Her son was such a weakling that his cry resembled that of a small kitten. He was difficult to hear from the other room and she resented him for that. How would she ever be able to get anything done? What must people think? Surely, his condition had nothing to do with the cigarette smoking she was unable to completely, set aside during pregnancy. A lot of women drank wine when expecting and surely, the few times she’d over imbibed weren’t enough to hurt her baby. It just wasn’t her fault! She felt herself cursed to receive such a defect. This puny runt of a son was just another example of how badly life treated her; another disappointment to cope with.

At age eighteen, Marissa was little more than a child herself and her love of alcohol kept her emotional maturity at about fourteen, the age when she first began drinking. She was the youngest in a large family and though her sisters doted on her, she had too little attention from tired parents who were also, grandparents. Marissa drank because she was lonely and she fell into other bad behaviors because of her need to belong to the drinking crowd. She became pregnant on purpose, thinking she’d find the emotional connection she yearned for in a baby. All of her dreams of motherhood were the fantasies of a little girl and her self-care during pregnancy was childishly, negligent. At eighteen, Marissa was frozen in narcissism and would remain forever, as a selfish child unless someday, she should decide to stop drinking, grow up, and develop into a whole person.

This isn’t good news for Marissa’s child. The tiny infant she left sleeping beneath too many blankets, while she sat drinking, smoking, deeply immersed in self. Suffocating, Adrian struggled to breathe beneath the weight and heat of the blankets, as his mother sought relief in the love of her life, Jack Daniels. The small boy’s twilight was quickly fading into night when one of Marissa’s sisters rang the door bell.

Arianna became an angel the moment she entered the room; an angel sent to save little Adrian. Wanting to see the new baby, she pulled the heavy blankets back and found the meager baby not breathing. Marissa began to helplessly, scream and cry in fear for herself, while Arianna tilted the baby’s small head back and breathed her life into his lungs. Miraculously, it was enough and Adrian began mewing his pitiful cry. This would be the first of three times that Adrian would face death before the age of five. Each instance brought about by the irresponsible actions of a mother who would forever remain a little girl.

Adrian was born with all of the odds set against him. No one looking in on the first years of his life would hold out much hope for him. This small child born as a sensitive in a harsh environment was doomed to suffer intensely. Many would say that abortion would be the greatest kindness to bestow on such a child. No greatness was evident in this child that seemed to be born to live only, in a moment of twilight. It is true that if he hadn’t been born, he would not have to experience pain or anguish. However, if he’d never been born, the world would suffer from his absence. For by his suffering, Adrian learned great compassion for abuse survivors and coupled with his inborn sensitivity, it gave him the empathy of insight into the suffering of others. He became a powerful counselor, teacher, and mentor to adults who also, survived abuse and neglect as children. The greater purpose for Adrian’s life could not be accomplished if his early years had been years of health, love, and comfort. God watched over Adrian despite the dysfunction of his mother and sent many angels at just the right time, to save him from death, to nurture him, to love, and value him. These angels enabled Adrian to survive and also, find his way to a saving faith that gave him the purpose and strength he needed to heal his trauma. In Jesus, the person not the religion, Adrian found the nurture he lacked from his mother. In mirroring Christ and seeking to live as He lived, Adrian found his purpose in serving God first and from that position of power, serving others. By faith, the power of choice, and hard work, he overcame all the odds; and rather than growing up to become another generational link in the curse of family dysfunction, Adrian became a blessing to many people. A child of twilight purposed in hope and filled with the divine light of God!

Hope for a Little Girl in the Dark

Caste into the outer darkness by the forces of illness and neglect, a child grows in the absence of the comfort and nurture that ensures a child’s becoming whole. Suspended in isolation with nothing but childish, undeveloped thoughts and the voices from the outer-world (of the family) to keep her company, Ester gives into sleep. In her dreams the door to freedom opens and allows her to escape the loneliness of her dusky room. If it were not for sleep and dreams, the vacuum would consume her and she would evaporate to nothing. However, the benevolence that surrounds Ester, the presence she can feel but not name, enters her dreams and speaks the loving words she so desperately needs to hear. Ester has a destiny greater than the one assigned to her by poor health and negligent parents.

Floating in the void of aloneness, Ester knows nothing different and is unaware of the threat to her existence. The void wants to swallow her whole before the world knows of her but Ester has a gift; the ability to fight the void by the power of imagination. The presence never leaves her and though the isolation she endures would destroy most adults, Ester never feels lonely. The warmth of divine love surrounds her and keeps her alive in her dimly-lit room and fills her dreams with joyful images, experiences, and even a sense of self. In the world of flesh and blood, Ester is small and weak. However, in the world of her benevolently guided dreams, Ester is very strong.

In this gloomy room, Ester will face death and win. Even though she’s been in bed for many months and her legs are too weak to support her, she will learn to walk again. She will leave this room one day and enter the real world because the One who loves her has predestined it so. Though Ester will embrace the void for a short period of time, in a wrong-headed effort to subdue and overcome it, the void won’t be able to destroy her. Instead, the emptiness she will for a time internalize will make greater room for the filling of the Spirit of God, who hovers around her, limiting evil and working all to ultimate good. Though Ester has no definition now, of either the loving presence or the void, she knows each as her constant often, only companions. Though she is nothing in the world, even valued little by her parents, God will be glorified through her. Her life, her very existence will be a testimony of Jesus; when she lets go of the void and knowingly invites Him in. Though the world views Ester as having no identifiable purpose, as only a sick little girl wanted by no one, God has predestined His purpose for her in Christ and her purpose will be completed. The void will be filled by the divine light that is Jesus and Ester will know the outer darkness no more.

Joy in a Sonoran Rain

There is nothing more lovely than a Sonoran winter rain. Pouring silver; large drops weighted by the ice of the winter world that surrounds The Valley of the Sun. The ice that melts into rain before it hits the warm desert floor, as snow buries the surrounding mountain rim. The dry soil welcomes the steady feeding of moisture in ground cooled enough to receive it and even store it safely, deep down below the surface. The peace of acceptance fills the atmosphere, as the rain washes the resting desert clean. There is a sense of sorrow, as all that stood and appeared strong in the previous season is washed away and all debris is broken down to become one with the soil. This short, quiet space in time, labeled as winter in the Sonora, is appropriated to building the foundation of the new season to come. This water that falls from the heavens is worth more than gold and everything that lives in the green desert depends upon it for life and by the wisdom intrinsic to its design, the Sonoran Desert submits to the washing, the rearranging that comes by the sheer force of water. The normal state of drought is fully satiated as the water overflows to fill the lakes and reservoirs that will be so needed when the rainy season ends. This strange season, so uncharacteristic of the desert’s usual appearance, is necessary or the fierce heat that tests all Sonoran life in summer would be devastating. This low lying climate would be left void, without the teeming life it sustains, and become nothing but hard packed ground. No one could enjoy this wonderful Valley of the Sun if it were not for these cloudy, gray, wet days.

Mourning is a season most struggle to avoid but mourning is the time when the foundation of the future is laid. When it comes, it is best to accept it and let go of all that is being beat down and rearranged. God loves a broken, contrite heart and God’s presence is all encompassing when a tired, broken heart opens to Him. When sorrow pours from skies cloudy with gloom and thoughts of past sunny days bring a deep sense of loss in their vanishing, this is joy: no matter how chaotic or abhorrent such a season may seem, God has His fingers laced tightly around all of it and those who belong to Him. When we are weak and there is nothing to hold onto amid the rushing flood, God holds us close and is working all the pain to our future good. The surety in life is that our purpose in Him will be fulfilled. In trusting God peace is found, even in the midst of a severe storm. In acceptance of God’s Will is the power to utilize mourning, as time spent alone with God, as He satiates grief and fills our deep reservoirs with Truth. He fills all sorrowful, dry basins that will become life sustaining lakes in the future, with the joy found in Jesus. Even if our bodies are part of the refuse to be broken down and washed away, for those hidden in Christ, it is but a natural part of the overall cycle of life, which we are part of. In Christ, all endings are beginnings for life is eternal. In Jesus, a melancholy rain is lovely. A time to rest securely in God’s presence and drink in the sustenance of His Spirit and wait as the great wheel turns, assuring the continued spinning of the other smaller wheels, He encircles.

By God’s Love the Sonora remains green. By His grace, the sorrowful season passes and the desert blooms in a fantastic, colorful display of continuing life. This is the assured hope of faith.

Sunshine on a Winter Day

I am so grateful that the sun still shines in winter.

Thankful for these warming rays brightly streaming,

Through my window, mercifully sent by my dear Father!

Warmth to comfort my body, lift my spirit; to liven my soul;

Lifting all thoughts to joy, allowing them to float on the waters,

Of sickness and sorrow; thereby abating my sadness and suffering;

Snugly wrapping me in loving security; and embrace me in His presence;

It is brutal! Outside it’s cold! A threat to my existence but here in my window

I sit, enjoying the heat of summer; kept safe from vile enemies that long to take

Me down to smother me in agony; in hopes of crushing my spirit, destroying my body!

But my soul, my enemy can’t touch, it belongs to the One who limits my enemy’s strength;

Daddy! He cherishes, protects His child; Surrounding me with bright sunshine on a winter day!

Joy for the Broken!

Sharpened shards of shattered thought do haunt;

Twisting perception, by imagination into madness;

Deflecting sanity and chanting the same old taunt;

Removing all superfluous hope and joy in gladness!

Don’t peer long into the darkness; evil’s eyes gaunt!

Disease does spread! Infecting hearts with sadness;

Manufactured misery; malignancy; it produces want;

Woe to the child raised in such black-holed madness!

Inheriting the wind in the brokenness and the haunt,

Of past generations, all ownership of future madness!

Do you hear it? The Devil’s gleeful and jeering taunt?

Destroying good, tainting childish hearts by madness!

This is his goal: Destroy them by generational haunt!

Only, Truth can break the cycling of abuse sadness!

By one mind at a time and re-writing life in new font;

Upright sanity found in Christ, He restores gladness!

Enlightens! Shines bright in dark eyes emptied haunt,

By ancestral ghosts, trapped in hereditary madness!

Jesus is the Way to end mad jeers, every devil taunt!

Heals sick minds by His Truth; Rejoice with gladness!

As old ghosts die and God’s Love fills all inner want!

Joy for the broken in Jesus! Truth ends the madness!

 

 

Joy on the Ragged Edge

Tired thoughts; scattered dust drifting in the air;

Denied a refuge from life’s ragged edge;

White knuckled in the now; possibilities nowhere!

Time’s pounding beat battering sledge;

Constant pain; relentless torturer doesn’t care!

Relationship split by prideful wedge;

Everyone’s looking for something! Life isn’t fair!

Confusion leaves truth on sanity’s edge;

Stress and exhaustion coupled; an untenable pair;

Life on the horizontal, without any hedge!

No purpose or hope; I want to pull out my hair!

Past isn’t pretty! Bury sins; Don’t dredge!

Ignore deep damage; but baste the outer tear;

Feigning courage as I totter on the ledge!

Don’t look below! Now, come down from there!

Look up! I Am here! Wisdom, Knowledge!

Faith! The vertical perspective! Delivering prayer!

Jesus is my refuge from the ragged edge;

He is my joy; He lovingly mends my every care;

By Grace He removed sin’s dividing wedge,

At the cross, vertical met horizontal; it was there

I found life, love, hope; My Protector’s hedge!

My worried head cradled; He counts my every hair!

 

Joy Waits on God

I am war-weary, in need of a furlough, and awaiting an honorable discharge. I am battle-hardened but this war is long; it has been raging for centuries, filling the earth with blood. My enemy is a deceptive predator who sometimes, weakens me by sneaking into my thoughts. You see, I once fought on his side, he thought he owned me. I was his tool, a common weapon that he had no regard for, and he thought to destroy me just for the twisted joy of practicing destruction. Please understand, my enemy, who was once my master can only, destroy. He has no power to build and he is enraged because the purpose that drives him has only one end, his own destruction. He targets me with his vengeance because I am the tool he prized for dishonor that was rescued by the One Who limits his power; by giving him over to his own desire. Though I once belonged to the enemy and was set to suffer his fate, my Savior rescued me, cleaned me up, repaired me, and gave me a new purpose. I no longer serve the purpose of destruction. I now, serve a new Master, my Friend, Who is the author of eternal life. By His Mercy, I live to serve God and surrender all that I am for His honor and glory.

The war I endure as hardship is the war with sin within. Those old thoughts and desires that the enemy knows so well and does all he can do to re-ignite, in hopes of weakening me and bringing me down. He oppresses me by the sin that flourishes without, in hopes of making my new purpose ineffective. He attacks and wounds my flesh, he threatens my existence. He taunts me, deceives me, and sets traps to make me fall. He accuses me of the evil he wishes me to commit. He castes his shame on me, hoping to weigh me down with undo guilt. He mocks me as he also, mocks my God, my Savior. He surrounds me with clouds of confusion like poison gas. He’s desperate because he knows he’s fighting a war he can’t win and that desperation has driven him mad. His fury is unleashing now to destroy everything and everyone in his limited power to destroy. He seeks to destroy me and those others like me who belong to Jesus. He can drain our blood and break our bodies but our souls belong to Jesus, the One Whose body was broken, blood drained out, but rose to live again.

Though all who believe in Jesus, in whom the Holy Spirit dwells, be wiped from the earth, they will remain safe in Jesus, awaiting His return. Then the enemy of man, God, and life will have his full season; a short time to visibly reign as god and bring woe to those who remain on the earth. Then Jesus and His called out company will return and cut that awful season short; because God is merciful and does not rejoice in the death of the wicked. Then my enemy will do hard time, awaiting Judgment, an eternal sentence in the prison of the torture he invented and visited on God’s children; suffering the eternal torment that belongs to the enemy of God. Then I will receive my furlough, it will last 1,000 years, in a world very different from the world I live in now. Joy won’t have to hide. Joy won’t be frustrated. Joy will over-flow and rejoice in the rapture of ultimate liberty!

My honorable discharge will come on the day I set foot in the new heaven and new earth, after one final battle with Satan; but it will be short. By then, all will know Satan for the loser he is, and sin will no longer sting and infect God’s children with death. Until then, I wait for my Jesus to return, strengthened by the joy I have in Him; protected in battle, my wounds tended, and relying on God for final victory. When overwhelmed by the specter of the enemy’s destructive force, I look up. Jesus is coming soon and I walk by faith, not by sight.

Open to Joy!

Insular safety, closed off in cavernous refuge;

My hiding place, my home, it’s the natural me;

Needing no one! I’m cuddling in this lie so huge;

Self-imposing my isolation; refusing to be free;

Once it was good reason; year of pain deluge:

Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain!

Terrible bell! Agony’s relentless knell tolling!

Now, clanging stopped but left memory stain;

Lick the wounds; all the while days keep rolling;

Forgotten, moribound isolation finding no gain;

Satiate isolation fed on old memories re-rolling;

Disconnect! This torturous clanging, re- tolling!

Lone! Lone! Lone! Lone! Lone! Lone! Lone! Lo…

As Holy Spirit wind gusts! Window flies open!

Joyously! As sunshine floods self-incarceration!

Lighting dark corners, revealing all left broken;

As song birds soothe away my need for isolation;

Paving way for hearing His trust Words spoken!

A shattered soul’s reconnection with His Creation;

Heaven’s bells sing! As a new song begins ringing!

Love! Joy! Love! Joy! Love! Joy! Love! Joy! Love! Joy!

Heart wounds fester; mortify in cave-like isolation;

Healing starts when lonely hearts pry open to joy!