Revelation 3.

There are rich people and poor people and the poor people look at the rich people.
There are happy people and sad people and the happy people empathise.
There are loud people and quiet people and the quiet people wonder why people are loud.
There are well people and sick people and the well people work harder.
Lordy why are there so many different people, people made in your image?

God's image, free will and the effects of sin.
Way, truth and life and a bucket of blessings.
All I can see is the bottomless I.
As I stand in the ground with my head in the sky.
Steeple torn clouds going south to find battle
Prismatic people follow like cattle.
I am the sum of all of my chattle
and in my words I paddle and prattle.

Revelation 2.

Have you ever realised, 'This is it I am living my life.'

Revelation 1.

I've had a lot of green lights lately.

Smith street

Where the men wear tats of sailing ships
and the women celtic runes 'pon  hips
and little girls lick sugary palms
and little boys have little qualms.

Beware grafitti and manure and plastic bottle portaloos
'tis a gorganganza of couture
a rich perversity of beauty true
and the trams jang a lang every stanza or two.

All the styles of all the pants
walk the road that lost its chance.
The grey clouds keep the carriage way cool
as I watch from my car like a broadway fool.

Dream of the silver greys.

I was walking along a street. It looked like the U.S.A.

I looked at each person walking by.

I realised I was dreaming and I felt excellent.

A long white cord stretched for miles from my chest to the sky.

I longed to follow the cord even though it was so long.

I was instantly above myself in my bed.

I forced myself to open my eyes. I didn't want to wake up.

I tried again to open my very sore and tired eyes.

I opened my eyes and saw my hands across my chest holding a bible.

I woke up. I was seventeen.

I don't have the exact details.

I don't think compassion needs an order.

Savour our Saviour across the border.

Shine on melancholic disorder.

Bring your passion and record her.

Resent and resent and resent some more.

Keep your keys and keep your door.

I can't walk and talk no more.

So I take my orders and watch the floor.

Trapped and contained with no liberation.

I've had a gutful of appreciation.

No escape and no end of frustration.

Take me away Dad to the sorry nation.

Why are the people of earth poor?

My answer is stop all military budgets, stop all manufacturers from producing defective disposable products, and reduce the obscene budgets spent on pet food, pet psychiatry and associated frippery. Stop the headlong rush to excess that never satisfies the people of this earth.