Dear Children

Dear Children,

the best of the worst,

or the worst of the best?

Do you really have a choice?

Was that ballot card marked,

stacked, and counted,

long before your birth?

Has the greed of a few

brought you to your knees?

In the big cities

there lurks a disease.

A contagious virus

of inequality and injustice,

in a petri dish

of avarice and violence.

Has the Walmart of your heart

been smashed, trashed, and looted?

The very depths of your soul

pillaged, plundered, and polluted?

Is the New Normal

of environmental degradation

to be a world of division,

ever descending into turmoil

and tribal retribution?

Whilst you slumbered

in toxic splendour

the powerful got your number.

You are now a shareholder

in what is to come.

When the higher reality

starts a-knockin’

will you open the door?

That star sign

you’ve relied upon

is now a brand name,

a slogan for selling perfume

and tampons.

That breakfast cereal selfie

that you prayed to

is now social distancing,

and denies ever knowing you.

But try not to cry

when your 99 red balloons

all fly off into the sky,

and your Kingdom

of Self-Saucing Pudding

leaves you high and dry.

Has your current reincarnation

come to the realisation

that this fleeting existence

is a once in a lifetime offering,

with no second chances?

Has your avatar

gone a dimension too far

searching the endlessness

of black hole meaninglessness

and wound up

on a desolate rock

spinning in outer space?

Dear Children,

there will be no

rising of the Sun

till the Big Wreckoning

is fully done.

Liberation is something

taken by the brave,

yet freely given

to the undeserving.

As the Temple

of Mammon falls,

and a craven panic sets in,

the skin deep superficial

and the materialistic venal,

all in a frenzy,

will soon be asking,

“What the hell is happening?!”

Dear Children,

will you answer the call

before the supernatural

starts unleashing,

without . . . and within?

In heaven’s name, what else

was your conscience expecting

when that slow train pulls in?”

No use riding shotgun

in some proud beastie boy posse

when the party is just beginning.

The reality higher,

like a searchlight in the night

upon a mighty tower,

will be shining bright.

Too bright for many

as true power and glory

is finally revealed.

In a love filled instant

all things bent and broken,

finely and divinely healed.

Just for the asking

the repentant forgiven.

All creation

eagerly awaiting

as time itself

starts unravelling.

When the curtain comes down

on this world of crime

there is only one name

you can truly rely on.

Resistance

to the Omnipotence

will be rendered useless.

The final siren

will end this wicked game

once and for all

for all those angels fallen.

Dear Children,

don’t be forgetting the one

who holds together

the many molecules

of your very existence.

When the reckoning begins

you are going to need a lawyer

for all those things

you have said,

thought,

and done.

Most fortuitously,

and providentially,

I know a real good one.

Not with some old,

and tired,

man made religion

of rules and regulations,

stuffed full of heartache and grief.

But a simple belief

in the one person

who lived a truly holy life,

was nailed upon a cross,

and then conquered death.

Dear Children,

please always remember,

he did all this

on your behalf.

(The Romans, and the Pharisees,
could never find his missing body.
They would’ve if they could’ve.
Try as they might they were never
able to produce it, to thus nip
this Jesus thing in the bud. Most
intriguing since they had soldiers
guarding his tomb to prevent
such a thing from happening,
after Jesus had declared that on
the third day he would rise again.)

On the other hand;

“Nietzsche is dead …
after his mental breakdown,
and a long stay in the asylum.”

That’s what the Coroner said
down in old Naumburg town.
Nietzsche was then buried in
a church graveyard at RΓΆcken.

Dear Children,

the day is soon coming

when truly believing

will be seen as an act of rebellion

against the corruption

of a broken world system.

In fact, in many parts,

the persecution has already begun.

Those places that people

are desperately fleeing from.

Dear Children,

I once heard

the Angels singing.

To be plugged in

for that celestial second

was electrifying.

Yet It seemed to me

like a mortal lifetime.

I have been privileged

to glimpse

the visible expression

of the living God

being glorified in Heaven.

Yes, there is a hard line

separating truth

from deception.

Dear Children,

I say these things

with love and affection.

Please always remember

your lives have true meaning.

Hope, faith , and love,

above and beyond

all of this world’s

fear, confusion, and suffering.

Words and Images;
David B. Redpath Β© 2020

“See to it that no one takes you
captive through philosophy and
empty deception [pseudo-intellectual
babble] according to the tradition
[and musings] of mere men,
following the elementary principles
of this world, rather than following
[the truth – the teachings of] Christ.

~ Paul, the Apostle (Amplified)

71 thoughts on “Dear Children”

      1. I’m a-going back out
        ’fore the rain starts a-falling
        I’ll walk to the depths
        of the deepest dark forest
        Where the people are many
        and their hands are all empty
        Where the pellets of poison
        are flooding their waters
        Where the home in the valley
        meets the damp dirty prison
        And the executioner’s face
        is always well hidden
        Where hunger is ugly,
        where the souls are forgotten
        Where black is the color,
        where none is the number
        And I’ll tell it, and speak it,
        and think it, and breathe it
        And reflect from the mountain
        so all souls can see it
        Then I’ll stand on the ocean
        until I start sinking
        But I’ll know my song well
        before I start singing

        One of these days
        and it won’t be long
        Going down to the valley
        and sing my song
        Gonna sing it loud
        and sing it strong
        Let the echo decide
        if I was right or wrong

        ~ Bob Dylan

        Liked by 2 people

      2. Indubitably
        . . . Cindy 😁 πŸ•ΆοΈ

        If it be your will
        That a voice be true
        From this broken hill
        I will sing to you
        From this broken hill
        All your praises
        they shall ring
        If it be your will
        To let me sing
        From this broken hill
        All your praises
        they shall ring
        If it be your will
        To let me sing
        If it be your will
        If there is a choice
        Let the rivers fill
        Let the hills rejoice
        Let your mercy spill
        On all these burning
        hearts in hell
        If it be your will
        To make us well
        And draw us near
        And bind us tight
        All your children here
        In their rags of light
        In our rags of light
        All dressed to kill
        And end this night
        If it be your will

        ~ Leonard Cohen

        Liked by 2 people

    1. Muchos gracias, Cara.
      I’ve been out and about a bit,
      like a mad dog off the leash,
      since my home town has just
      been released from lock down
      here in Victoria, Australia.
      6 months+ of going stir crazy,
      but it seems to have been
      worth it, with no new Corona
      cases for the last week 🚫🀞

      Liked by 1 person

  1. reminds me of a line I just read in a short story by Douglas Stuart: ‘… when I was a boy, a stand of Douglas firs had seemed as otherworldly as the rings of Saturn’ [‘The Englishman’].

    David, I would love you to have a go at writing a poem or a short piece to my post ‘Which Animal Are You?’ A contribution from you would ‘top it off’ nicely πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’ve been tearing my hair out, John,
      trying to come up with a response
      to your ‘Which Animal Are You?’ post.
      So, I guess I’m now that Hairless Ape
      people keep talking about? Or, am I
      just back to where I started from πŸ€”

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Instagram works well for people as more and more join on daily basis. Incapable of understanding its algorithm yet following the blue ticks blindly with a belief that their spoken words matter. Should I be hopeful on the part that the world will change? A question every day I ponder and the day ends with disappointment.
    I am sorry if I went off content. Your words are touching. Attractive articulation of words.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. To move with the Algorithm
      is a smooth groove thing. Mass
      communication synchronised
      with the artificial intelligence
      of a machine πŸ€– All topics, real
      and synthetic, are subject to it’s
      partially omniscient oversight πŸ‘οΈ

      Hope floats upwards and onwards
      to the heights of Love, somewhere
      far above the push and shove of
      this world’s chaos and violence.

      Thanks Kritika, for your insights.

      I had noticed your post absence.
      I assumed you had permission
      from the WordPress Commission,
      of course 😎

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Smooth groove thing it is. So easily one accepts the account who has more followers (which can be bought). Brainwashing is easy this way.
        I have been reading posts but writing part is difficult for time being.
        Yes lols. Permitted to enter and exit anytime I want. πŸ˜€

        Liked by 1 person

      2. When democracy is reduced
        to a Geriatric Beauty Contest
        God help the free world … or
        what’s left of it 🌎 πŸ™

        Between the idea
        And the reality
        Between the motion
        And the act
        Falls the Shadow

        ~ T. S. Eliot

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh Day of the Davidians
    I’ll graft two extracts of fruitful trees:
    1.
    Preacher was a-talkin’, there’s a sermon he gave /
    He said every man’s conscience is vile and depraved /
    You cannot depend on it to be your guide /
    When it’s you who must keep it satisfied //
    &
    2.
    Names so deep and /
    Names so true /
    They’re blood to me /
    They’re dust to you //
    And say this: your posts are profound and truly require a number of (re)readings! β€” De Profundis

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Your positive feedback is greatly
      appreciated, Anna πŸ™
      Thank you muchly for that dose
      of Dylanesque profundity πŸ’
      ‘Man In The Long Black Coat’, is a
      personal favourite of mine.
      I must play it forthwith 🎢 since
      I haven’t heard it for some time 😎

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for your thoughtful feedback,
      Jessica. It is greatly appreciated πŸ™
      With all the bitterness being shouted
      from the rooftops, only a sweet dose
      of divine love can ever make it stop πŸ’›

      β€œPoetry is a dangerous profession
      between conflict and resolution,
      between feeling and thought, between
      becoming and being, between the
      ultra-personal and the universal
      – and these balances are shifting all
      the time.” ~ May Sarton

      Like

    1. Very much appreciated, Taruna πŸ™πŸ’›
      I do try my best to take the pulse
      of the collective conciousness, but
      at the risk of pissing people off πŸ“΄πŸ€”
      (that’s an Australian expression for
      being annoying 😎)

      Like

  4. I’ll be honest, David, I found the images a bit sad and confusing, especially at the confusing time in which I first saw this post, but you’ve won me over with the key messages of your poem, including this one at the end:
    “Please always remember
    your lives have true meaning.
    Hope, faith, and love,
    above and beyond
    all of this world’s
    fear, confusion, and suffering.”
    Lovely final words to hang onto, along with a good many other beautiful lines throughout the piece. A challenge worth the effort if we can succeed. πŸ’› I also loved what you said to Anna, in comments above: “For me, posting is an expression of true freedom. A compulsion born upon the wings of a love resurrection.” Wow! That is poetry in itself. Hope you will post more such love-resurrecting works. Messages of faith, forgiveness and love are good in this place. We can use more of them. πŸ™πŸ˜‡

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Great to hear from you, Lia πŸ’›
      I was taking a bit of a break from
      social media having just adopted
      a new puppy. Who would think that
      babies could be so time consuming?!
      Thanks for your valued reflections
      regarding my poem. I’ve just been
      playing around with another one …

      Death on a bender
      life spent on a shopping trip
      through a drugstore blender
      where the lights are blinding
      dreaming I was someone else
      somebody off the shelf
      a voice through the loudspeaker
      chanting, “Shop till you drop!”
      in the Mall of the Self Serving
      where there is never a question
      regarding motivation
      but deep down
      in the car park of my heart
      where it was quiet and dark
      where Liberation
      is ever the question
      I knew I was free to be me
      a fire can always start
      from the smallest of sparks
      the consummation
      of endless possibility
      where heaven is waiting

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Wowzers David, that is a beauty.
        Awww and congrats on your new puppy. How sweet πŸ’—πŸ’—
        Here’s a quickie from me:
        The kids cried for xmas calendars
        And I cried out for a song a day.
        The kids cried for Netflix hours
        And I cried for a screen mauritorium,
        “No way.”
        Then the crying died out
        and music was played, and sung
        and laughter heard,
        this merry day.
        Hurray! 🎊πŸ₯³πŸŽΆ
        Et merci David,
        for this merry November
        poetically spiritual πŸ˜‡πŸ˜‰πŸ˜†
        bouquet. πŸ™πŸ‚πŸ’›

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thank you David for
        replying so gracefully
        to my silly
        late-night ramble lol.
        I must say I adore your poetry snippets:
        “but deep down
        in the car park of my heart
        where it was quiet and dark
        where Liberation
        is ever the question
        I knew I was free to be me
        a fire can always start
        from the smallest of sparks
        the consummation
        of endless possibility
        where heaven is waiting”
        So so beautiful. ✨
        And true about the weather,
        both internal and external β˜”οΈπŸŒ€πŸŒˆπŸ”†

        Liked by 1 person

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