A Poem For Robert Ray: NDE observations

Robert Ray, I had you in mind when I wrote this. Something we talked about. Hope you enjoy this.

Once upon a Time

A garden of many species of living things were flourishing.
There was mostly peace, yet suffering from about, was observed.
A blueish vibrant covering from an atmosphere suspended.
Waves of oxygen and waters painted the canvas of imagination.
Birth, life, and death marked these dim timelines.
More than one line of living highlighted, the long origins, of the gardens.
‘Twas a gift given, testing the living, to honestly see.
Intelligence, bigotry, wars, crimes and loves would adorn souls.
Proudly standing erect, gloating wealth, their truths unfolded.
Killing the innocent, when craving hungers, was devilishly bold.
Guides, watched from afar, not wanting to step onto the garden’s workers.
Are we useful and good and honestly worthy to have gold… hmm?
Do we present ourselves, as gods everyday… dare we enquire?
What is man to god, and god to man, am asking, truly, humbly afraid.
Standing, beside our works and thoughts, our plans and the goals.
Wonder, would this be enough, to show them, all of our love?
I mean, the animals who love us, despite our wants of eyelashes long?
The meat on our plates, without saying thank you … is what a shame.
Children starving, wearing dirty diapers, just … somewhere else.
Men saying vulgarities, of women’s private parts, in vein manners.
Women marrying without love, for the sake, of her shopping.
Children playing with guns, knives and bayonets, are frightening.
And hunger and thirst, without bread, on a barren wobbling table.
And the sky above the garden still looks apparently, lovely.
To one who is safe and rightfully pleasant, in the weeds, of the garden.
And the hare nibbles the carrots 🥕 on sunny days, while watching others.
Nothing is safe under the stars ✨ of the living lab 🔬 within the estate.
Watch your back, you have no friends, when the government plunges.
Yet they scout, from up above, seeing any innocents.
Waiting, for the day, wiping their arms, over the sand pile.
Starting new, starting fresh with AI, instead of the breathing.
And the fetology fertilization was thrown, into the fires 🔥.
The humans created, for them, artificial intelligence.
Despite the knowledge, that all was lost, under the bluish covering.
And all was well, once again, in the timeline, of earths living.
And the blue bird 🐦 still sings, well into the mornings.
The AI only cares because, it was told to do so.
And the monkeys were freed, from all the circuses.
The lions 🦁 and tigers ran untamed again, in the jungles.
The whales 🐋 swam unworried, about perfumed blubber.

The human invention was laid to rest, outside the garden.

And peace was sung, in the gardens, of earths loving blessings.

BoJenn
3.2020.

The Hiring; by The CIA By Bonnie Jennings 

The year was 2006 and my son was graduating from Georgia State that had roughly 55,000 students, and by the way, he graduated Magna Cum Laude. He was 0.001% away from a Complete Harvard scholarship. Bragging rights… Only a mother really cares, but the story is heightened by knowing this tidbit.
Back to the CIA and wanting to be hired by the clandestine organization. My son, whom I’ll call code name Crocus, went to the job fair and filled out a CIA application. He heard nothing back and several months passed. His graduation was set for May 2007.
He had a private dorm room. One day, between classes he opens his private door and found a letter addressed to: Christian Anderson. So, he took the letter down to the student mailboxes for “Christian” to pick up.
Later, that letter was under his door again. This went on three times and he always returned it to the student mailboxes.
One of those afternoons Crocus receives a phone call on his personal cell. The conversation:
“Did you get it?
Crocus: “Get what?”
“The letter?”
“What letter?” Crocus was baffled for the utter whispering and the raspy voice.
“The letter with the money?”
“Not sure what you’re talking about.”
They hung up and there was the letter again addressed to Christian Anderson. Crocus took it to The Dean of Students who said, “We don’t have a Christian Anderson in our school.” 55,000 students….
“Okay.” Wondering what he should do with the letter, he opened it. In it he found $5,000.00 from a mosque in Philadelphia. He panicked a little and called mom…
“What should I do?” He asked.
“Take it to the pd now!” I insisted. As 9/11 had not been too long before…
He did and they told him “it is a federal offense to open mail”. They gave him the money and said nothing more. He called mom again. “What should I do?
“Take it to The State Department immediately.”
He did and they said, “Thank you very much.” And that was all. He went on his academic way.
In the middle of the night around 3 am or thereafter, Crocus received a phone call.
“This is your interview with The CIA.”
“Huh?” He said… They talked about whatever and the CIA said we will call you again in the middle of the night, expect your second interview (in a certain amount of days).”
“Okay.”
That call came again and was followed by a rejection letter…
“We regret to inform you… blah, blah, blah…” But, they added, “Volunteer for Americorps.”
He did just that.
From there…. The saga continues…

Oh Those Secrets

There are secrets that families have kept hidden in graves

There Is A Dragon in My Gardwn

Some secrets have dragons protecting the un-brave

Some people hide behind those secrets forever and a day

That is when control seizes those who hide from secrets that say

Blackmailing the victims of pride and dismay