A Single Empty Stocking (26-12-2007)

Don't get me wrong, but I just don't see what the rest of you see in Christmas, unless it was what Jesus was born for at Christmas; aren't they supposed to be the same thing? If you don't believe in Jesus, why celebrate Christmas. Faith for faith sake!

It is 10:00 pm on the Eve of His Birthday, a Brother is given to Mankind, to save you all from sin, the Stocking that is always empty. Each Christmas, as shoppers hustle and bustle around in search of the latest and best gift to give each of their loved ones; one stocking still remains empty; why? Is it because it is too expensive, too rare a gift to find? No, it carries no cost, but it has great value. The gift, to Mankind, with value beyond all measure, which none has never given.

Centuries ago, a single child was born to Man, as man, carrying the words of Peace and Love for all Mankind. What has Mankind learned from his sacrifice? Look around you as you race to the tree tomorrow and observe the seven deadly sins at work; fore they have emptied that single stocking. A stocking once filled with Peace and Love, and kind wishes and heart of care and tender joy for one’s fellow man. Where now do those feeling and emotions exist in the world today? Nowhere.

Centuries ago; three Wise men made pilgrimage to make gifts of Gold Frankincense and Mir to a special child; one who would grow up to spread a single common message; one that has lost all meaning to all Mankind. Where are those Wise men, today; fore their gifts are coveted by those who have more than they could ever rid themselves of in ten lifetimes or more. Why is the Avarice so rampant among the members of the Human Race, followed closely by the other six sins? What has Mankind gained from their vision of Christmas?

Each and every year the gifts are more expensive; the reception is more ambivalent and sometime disrespectful. What are these gifts worth, when they are not appreciated? A poor family gave birth to a special child; that is the origin of Christmas. A special child brought to the world through the poverty of the world, yet today; the message is lost in the rhetoric of advertising and the desensitization and disrepute of Santa Claus. He who would fill the stockings of the poor, the homeless and the starving with gifts that brought joy and peace to the poorer classes.

Today, few if any remember this message in the origin of Christmas. Who is Christmas for? Christmas is meant for the haves to share what they have accumulated with the Have-nots; however, that is not done these days. 

Imagine Christmas as Christmas should be for all those children in the world that have little or nothing; what fills their stockings? Nothing fills their stockings, not even food.

Yes, you ventured out a spent a small fortune, splurged on your loved ones; bought them the newest version of something they already had. Wish each other Merry Christmas; forgetting there are countless millions of children in your own neighbourhoods who do without this day and the next. What gift has Mankind brought them; an end to the warts that ravage their world; and end to the hunger that grumbles in their stomachs each night. What message is sent to those who hunger and thirst, those who are indigent and homeless worst of all what of all those helpless children around the world?

What have your gifts brought them? Nothing! I have said my Christmas is never merry; fore my heart is with those unfortunate and innocent children; down each street and in poverty around the world. Your gifts to charity, that never reaches the end, your donations that never reach destination. What cheer can one find on such a holiday. Listening to the radio; one ears songs sung by wealthy performers, about Peace on Earth, Good will towards “All,” but never does it last beyond a few hours, or ever reaches those who need it the most.

Ah, the empty stocking; once filled with kindness to one’s fellow man; unconditional Kindness; compassion for everyone, not just the few who can afford it, but for those who have not one red cent. The music of this season is hypocritical, the Media and their backers follow suit and worst of all the wealthy, those who can foster the greatest change do little or nothing, while claiming they have done so much. In observation, one can see the truth behind today Christmas; fore it is not the celebration of the birth of a benevolent soul. It is now a celebration of the greediest one.

I guess I truly stand alone in the wish for PEACE and Love spread throughout all the lands of the Earth; fore all Mankind deserves to live in Peace with Love and Happiness. If not at Christmas, when?

Yes, if a single child goes hungry, or homeless anywhere in the world, Christmas has failed, and has been failing for far too long. Only as one can it be eradicated; only together can Mankind feed all who starve, house all who seek shelter and bring peace and Love to all who hunger for it. It is the dream everyone dreams of.

On December 26th, 2007, all I have recorded will escape the understanding and comprehension of all Mankind; even those few who wouldst acclaim they comply; have already missed the point. The Stocking is empty and will remain empty, till Mankind refills it with kindness and goodwill, peace and love; the concept and precepts of sharing and forgiveness and compassion; mercy and caring, everything that little child brought into the world and dies to for. That would be a Christmas to remember. A Christmas where all who could buy something more than a gift for someone beyond their family, someone in need, a stranger, a visitor, the homeless. A Christmas Christ would hope for.

Just ask yourself what would Christ give on Christmas Day?

A single tear rolls down my cheek for that single empty stocking!

The gifts of Christmas should enhance the Minds, warm the Hearts and enrich the Souls of and for all Mankind. What gift do you bring on his birthday to fulfill the promise? For every child that goes without food, shelter clothing, education and all those things Mankind can provide; that stocking will remain empty.

Written by R. Anthony H. Rock on Dec. 24th, 2007.

Earthbound Angels (Originally posted: Monday, 15 January 2007)

I thank NaMeRes for their help, when I was in need ... now I help those who are in need. Can you say the same, I was an Earthbound Angel.

When someone gets up in the morning with a smile on their face; is it because they did something good for all Mankind or was it because they did something that benefitted them, solely to gain more power or riches, (Avarice).

The progression of the Human Soul, from their birth is to EVIL, why?

From generation to generation, Mankind has been taught by their predecessor to be EVIL to their fellow man, in a world gone MAD. Even though Evil is often the NORM among Humans, there are those occasions in which Mankind's truest self emerges, comes to light. A Man fall sick on the Subway tracks, another man leaps to cover the sick man with his own body as the train approaches, without a care for his own life, only for the sick man; they both survive, the man is call a HERO.

I present this NOTE today to hear from you, the world, what have you done to serve your fellow man? It need not be to save of a life, it could be as simple as serving food at a Homeless Shelter, or making sandwiches for the poor and destitute, and the Homeless.

Anything “You” may have done for the unfortunate among us, who need our help, each and everyday. We are brothers and sisters of ONE BLOOD, we need to start acting has though we were, for one day, we may need such blood, or none will venture forth to save any lives. Help, for the lack of help wealth has provided.

So, in Comments to this blog, I ask that you tell us all, what you have done to serve Mankind, regardless of the Deed. Allow none to give perception, to such acts, for none will judge the worth; any Act of Kindness is far greater than an Act of Violence, though violence is more available to the common man in these times.

The World needs to know only four main things:

1. What you have done?
2. Who was affected?
3. How is the person, now?
4. Why did you help?

All Good Deeds expand by three, and each time you complete another Deed, the number increases.

Financial Donations can be sent to:

Na-Me-Res

14 Vaughan Rd.

Toronto, ON

M6G 2N1

Email: general@nameres.org

Phone: (416) 652-0334 or (416) 652-3138

Registered Charity: #119050516RR0001

If you need a Deed; donations can be made to NaMeRes. We have all been lost and can be found, only if we allow ourselves to be found; by showing the LIGHT in our Souls and aid those around us, who; in time of need, accept our help and gratitude, and sing praises to their friend of our kind Deeds.

Mankind can survive any hardship, with the help of Mankind.

We are all in this together; let's make it better for the children to inherit.

© copyright R Anthony H. Rock

Short Stories by R. Anthony H. Rock (Jan 2010)

“A Caribbean Christmas Story”

     Christmas occasions itself in many countries across the world in different climbs. This short tale occasions itself under the warmth of the Caribbean Sun, on a quiet island. Christmas is past here as it is done anywhere else, with well wishes, gift giving and good cheers from one and all, but it too, can be marred by the brutal reality.

Not all families have finances to reward each other at Christmas, neither do they have so diverse a selection of gifts, here life is more modest, simpler; where a word and a handshake still have meaning and carry veracity.

Standing on the pathway of a busy street corner, a young lad, fourteen years old; his unkempt hair showing the first tendrils of Dreadlocks, fashionably worn by the members of his peer group. His bright brown eyes sparkle with wonder. Christmas Eve is tonight and there'd be gifts to open on Christmas morning.
His clothes belie an informal upbringing; one could see the repairs in his clothes; well-worn and aged. Sewn and re-sewn, he lazed in that uniform; handed down to him from an older brother, now away at some University in the United States; an Athletic Scholarship or some such; awarded for his prowess in what came naturally; running.

The boy looks around hesitantly. Precautious he took tentative steps toward home. Beside him, the sparkle of Gold flecked khaki paint, pinned striped and lacquered; a bike he had made the final payment on. He would not ride it home, nor would he dare sit on it for any part of the distance; it was the gift for his father on Christmas. 43 weeks, every spare penny and dollar had been saved for this. He would wipe the dust of with a damp cloth; the tires too; it would gleam as the sun beamed through the windows on Christmas.

Earlier he had seen his nemesis, a schoolboy bully, rounding a corner across the street and get into a dilapidated vehicle. The rust barely holding onto the remains of paint, long faded door panels. It had gone that way. Away from him, but that was no consolation. The next turn was a Roundabout and could bring them back in minutes. It would be best to wait in the midst of the crowd, in safety.

At home, his Grandmother and mother prepared the evening meal, with light chatter of the evening's festivities and the morning, yet to come or how much joy would there be at dinner that night. All the favourites were ready; for Anton, there were Saltfish Bakes.

Anton’s next steps brought him to a small vendor’s door, where he stopped and looked around, in every direction; no sign of Victor or his cronies, the way seemed safe; he continued. Stopping next at every corner to observe, the way was clear, walking the bicycle; lifting it over the puddles and filth that were Market Street.

A few more blocks and he would be home, safe. He would hang the bike in the shed, in a dark corner, where his father wouldn’t see it. He walked confidently; his street loomed just ahead and home at the bottom of a low hill. Looking both ways; he lifted the bicycle onto his shoulder and stepped into the street.

A dilapidated Blue car screeched to a halt inches from him. Any contact, the injuries would have been fatal. He stood frozen. Stretching to reach from the window of the car was Victor, a devilish smile broadening across his face. Out of the passenger window he pointed a revolver at Anton. Rooted to the spot, where he’d stepped, stood Anton, bike on his shoulder.

People scurried about their business, getting out of harm's way; cared little of what they saw and less of what would transpire,. Victor stepped from the open car door, slamming it caused Rust and faded Paint chips to rain in the mud.

A few more minutes and he would have been home. Where had he let his guard down?
     “Where ya tink ya going in such a hurry, bwoy?” Victor inquired, waving the gun lazily through the air.
     “Home,” Anton’s reply. His stomach churned, butterflies readying themselves for flight.
     “M’, see you get me a bicycle for Christmas. No need to give it me tomorrow, m’ can take it right now.” Victor smile grew.
     “It’s for my father, not you.” Touched by courage scattered here and there, netting butterflies.
     “M’ say, the bike is mine 'n' m' take it now!” Victor pointed the gun directly between his eyes, Anton stiffened.

The weight on his shoulder eased, as the bike was lifted by the driver. Put in the car; Victor backed away, sat with a grin; as the car sped off. Anton watch only a few second, before giving chase. He closed the gap quickly and was a few steps from the bike sticking out of the trunk, when a horn sounded; he was forced to break off in oncoming traffic. The bus behind turned and followed the car as Anton stepped out of the street.

Anton reached out, caught hold of the bus as it passed; in continued pursuit. If only he could reach a wheel. He could pull it from the trunk. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Victor had the gun, what could he do. The bike and its owner turned the next corner and were gone from sight as the bus continued along its route.

Anton leaped off the bumper, turned towards home. He now travelled twice the distance measured before the encounter. This time, without a bike. Head down, walking slowly, discouraged and alone. People brushed passed, bumped him out of their way, he walked desperate in thought. Deep contemplation took each step. What would he, could he, give his father for Christmas? He had no money to buy another bike or any other gift.

Anton crossed a familiar street and looked up. He was at the Bike Store again. He’d just gotten the bike here; what seems hours ago. The bikes were arranged in rows out front, locked together. Bent over, an attendant assisted to a customer's needs, another purchased was being set free of its chain, then set to one side. The two, client and attendant stepped into the store to conclude their business.

Without thought to consequence, Anton hopped on the bike and pedalled away.

At home safe with no pursuit. He wiped down the frame, the tires, oiled the chain and hung the bike in the corner of the dark shed; closed the door and entered the house.
     “Hi Nan, hi mom, smells good…” he kissed both women, sniffed at pots, savoured the aromas, picked up a Saltfish bake; stuffed it into his mouth, thinking no one had seen him. Granny smiled and slapped his bottom with a wooden spoon.
     “Out of here…enough, wait for Dinner.”

He washed his face and hands, went to the room he shared with his uncle and older brother, which would be tonight. Robert Jr. would be home for Christmas. Had 9 months really passed so quickly? Uncle was out, so he was alone for a time. He went over the events of the last few minutes in his head. He was unsure. Had seen him ride off with the bike and hoped no one had. He could hear his grand-mother singing hymns in the kitchen. Her voice was always soothing to him.

Time passed quickly and dinner time neared. The clatter of dishes and cutlery said the table was being readied for dinner. He could hear voices in the other room; thought his uncle was home, possibly his father; the voiced were indiscernible as the door was closed.

There came a soft knock at the room door.
     “Anton?” That was granny's voice. “Are you in here?”
     “Yes,” Anton replied, and turned from his desk as Granny entered.
     “There is a Policeman here, looking for you…”
     “Me? Why me?” He had been caught, his body began to shiver, up and down the spine.
     “Something about a stolen Bike…”
     “Granny, I stole a bike today.” He relayed the details of the event to his Grandmother, leaving nothing out. The tears rolled down his cheek, as his confessed. She put her arm around him, consoled him.
     “Let me see what I can do…” she wiped his face. “…wait here.”

She left. He could be heard voices in the next room. The door flew open and his father entered, pipe streaming spilt a pleasant aroma into the room. A professor at the local college and well respected in the Province and on the Island.
     “What do you have to say for yourself young man?” The stern look sent streams of terror up and down Anton’s body.
     “Sorry dad…” he trailed off, unable to get the remaining words out.”
   “I had a strange phone call today, which tells me you have been up to no good.” Father grimaced; his name and reputation could be at stake, if this matter wasn’t cleared up soon.
     “What do you have to say for yourself?”

No words escaped Anton’s lips. He collapsed to the bed.

          “Well have you nothing to say?”

The screech of tires heard outside in the street brought a halt to interrogation. There was yelling and a loud bang and then there was screaming and more yelling. All that din outside, but father stood rooted to the spot where he first entered the room. A patient man, he waited for reply.
     “Robert, come out here,” Grandmother yelled. Robert was the first of her 5 children,  Anton’s father; head of the family since Grandfather’s passing the year before. It would remain a tight-knit family as long as Robert was in charge.

At the front of the house, the police had a young boy in handcuffs, while others searched another boy. One officer approached Robert, notepad in hand.
     “Are you the owner of this house?”
     “Yes,” he replied inquisitively. “Why, what has happened here?”
     “We trailed two boys here; found them attempting to breaking into a shed back there. They were described after a Store robbery earlier this afternoon. Some Bikes were stolen and one was found in your shed, another was recovered and we have reason to believe your son is the owner of one of the bikes seized. Can you shed any light on this situation?” The officer was detailed in describing the Bikes.
     “I have no idea what is going on. I have just returned from school.”
     “The Shopkeeper claims your son purchased a Bike earlier.” He pointing out a gold flecked khaki painted, pinned striped and lacquered bicycle leaned against the tree in the front yard.
     “Recovered from that boy, who had a gun.” He pointed.
     “I am still waiting for how this affect us.”
    "Well, one of these boys stole some Bike from a Bike Store this afternoon, just after your son purchased a Bike. Your son was seen on video riding a bike from the Store. Which is bike is difficult to tell from the surveillance video.
     “Yes, the Shopkeeper called me a short while ago. One moment.” He shouted, “Anton!”
     “Yes dad,” Anton said, still wiping tears as he approached.
     “What do you know about these Bikes?” Father’s stern glare fixed Anton to the spot.

Seeing Victor in handcuffs gave Anton courage. He stood up, no longer looking down; he met his father eyes and said.
     “I bought a bike for you for Christmas, to replace the old one you’ve been riding. Yours is old and rusting; I thought you would give the old one to me once you have the new one. I could fix the old one and ride it to school. On my way home, Victor took it from me. I chased them, but couldn't catch them…”

Before he could finish the tale, the officer interrupted.
     “Yes, that was reported as well. We will charge these boys with the Assault with... and Theft of both Bikes. Thank you son; you can have your Bike back.”

Anton beamed, did not take a single step towards the Bike, now just steps away, leaned against the tree. The officer turned, went over to a number of Patrol Cars and spoke with other officers; got in and left. The handle bars and the saddles protruding from their trunks as the vehicles departed.
     “Well Anton,” father said quietly, “Go get that bike and lock it in the shed.” He complied and went to his room, to await father’s decree of Punishment.

Dinner passed without incident in joviality and humour. Everyone at the table enjoyed the meal and the reunion of family, Robert Jr. was home, uncle sang and mother and granny had prepared a meal fit for the most excellent of Christmas Eve.

The joyful morning arrived, noisily with the crow of a rooster in the distance. The birds sang sweetly through an open window as the clatter of dishes and cutlery heard in the kitchen, descried Breakfast was being prepared.

Anton wash his face, brushed his teeth and dressed quickly, wanting to be the ready to open presents. He could smell the sweet aromas coming from the kitchen as he opened the door. It stirred his brother; he arrived late that evening.
     “You up already?” his brother whispered.
     “Hurry; there are presents to open…” Anton smiled, “…me first.”

Breakfast was spent much like dinner the night before, with joy and laughter. As Granny sang she readied herself for Church. Some presents were opened. There were gifts for all, exchanged, but for Anton, there was nothing from Dad. As he opened the last of the gifts Anton hugged and kissed each person. His father sat in his chair smoking his pipe, satisfied with the morning’s events. Anton looked at his father.
     “Merry Christmas dad,” kissed him on the cheek, turned to walk away.
     “Where do you think you’re going?” Father said smugly, taking the pipe from his lips. “I have something for you.”
     “Getting ready for Church. I'm going with Granny,” Anton said.
     “Come with me, we have to discuss last night…” Father rose and the two of them exited the room. As they approached the shed, father tossed Anton his keys, “Go ahead open it.”

Apprehension fought against anticipation; a stalemate. Had father had given Anton the old bike? He would not need to walk to school anymore. He unlocked the shed, threw wide the door. There stood two New Bikes of differing size; one for Father, one for Son.

     “Thank you dad. It is more than I wanted. Thank you very, very much.” Anton beamed. There in the shed, was the very bike he had stolen from the bike store.

       “Your Grandmother told me the Story last night. I am proud that you told the Truth. The Spirit of Christmas is not in giving or getting Gifts, but in the sharing of Truth. Granny told me how long you saved to buy a bike; I thought it best you have one of your own, so we can ride; together. Merry Christmas son.”

© copyright R Anthony H. Rock

Viewpoint

What You See is Not, What you See.

The View from both of the Floor

#Interfluence
I'm not too sure, but while the People of the World find themselves in the quagmire that is United States Politics; witness the similar, yet polar opposing views of the two individuals seeking the Office of President; they could obtain the #Power to #Enact change to better the lives of the People of the USA. I ask one question;
"What truly has changed?"
1) The USA still has one of the highest rates of Unemployment.
2) The USA still has an increasing percentage of Homelessness.
3) The Salaries & Wages earned have not kept pace with those of Executives, CEO and Big Business owners, who owe those profits to the hard work of the employees they refuse to pay.
4) Greed and Corruption are out of control; reaching to the top echelons of both Government and Incorporated Business.
5) The Protection of Citizens and the Enforcement of Law has been sent back to the Lawless Era, when the Fastest Gun set the Rules.
6) Civil & Human Rights detailed in the Hallowed Documents of the founding of their Nation can be observed to have been rescinded; taken back by an established & stagnant Organization; the Government has proven to be equally: Bigoted, Ignorant, Biased and in most cases outright Prejudice, offering Presidential Power as they choose or denying them when they are obligatory.
7) The Wealthiest secret their ill-gotten Fortunes, Evade Taxation, while claiming they don't have enough.
8) A Strong USA is based on a Healthy USA, but Healthcare is available only to those with Wealth to afford it, while the poorest go without; working in Companies making Billions.
9) The Media dictates the Values, Ideals and the Ideologies of the masses; spin, sensationalize and twist the Truth at every turn to ensure they maintain an Ethnic, Religious and the Racial tensions that divide the Nation, when #Unity is the Ideology of the "United" States.
10) Polarized as they are in this climate of Political Division; the Republicans and the Democrats both fail in the Obligations, Service and the Governing of a once great Nation.
A New Rome prepares to fall, as the divides between Wealth & Poverty; Justice & Injustice, Law & Order, Public & Private become opposing side of a single Coin; like the Number 6 or is it 9; observed from diverse points of view, when the truth is obvious...0 has changed in over 200 years of growth.
Is that what the Country calls Change?
The Poor clutch at Straws, while bales rot in Wealthy Fields.
Many things can be #True, but there can only be One #Truth...and understanding the difference is a Sign of Growth.
From observation: The Nation has not outgrown it's Childish Infancy.
So as the Nation elects their side of a single ideal; the Truth goes unnoticed by everyone mired in this Political Race; when it should be about the increased and renewed Division of a People the deserve to be #UNITED!

HAVE I GOT YOUR ATTENTION!?

© copyright R Anthony H. Rock

Suffer the Children to come...

     As cherished friends, relatives and dear family members grow older, a thought comes to mind; it is difficult to realize continued life without their company, but it is even more difficult to release them from long term obligations of friendship and family obligation earned over decades.

     Whose life is more cherished; the living or the dying? Difficult to discern, when the living care so little for who lives and who dies; beyond their borders. Difficult to discern as they commit loved one to infirmities equal to imprisonment and incarceration. Difficult to discern when such loved and cherished lives are condemned to suffer in agony and pain; tantamount to torture. Difficult to discern when the pursuit of oppression, repression and destruction surpasses all forms that engage Peace.

     It is difficult indeed, to lose those one loves to illness and infirmity, death and disease; worse yet to watch them suffer in pain. There are only 2 prayers one can offered here; the first for Healing that may or may not come and other for the release from the pain and suffering; into the Peace sought for the entirety of that Life.
Which would you choose?
Which demonstrates the Compassion and the Mercy sought throughout the ages by all Mankind?
Would you deny others their Rite to Peace as you deny them their Rite to choose that Peace, while attempting to gain that Peace yourself?

Suffer ye the Children of Man to pass this way to Peace.

© copyright R Anthony H. Rock

“What does Woman Want?"

In a World bereft of Common Sense, Common Decency and Common Respect for each other; there has been and always will be a Common Question that has plagued the male of the species for generations uncounted, since the dawn of the species.
An excerpt from the Philosophical Novel : "Andrai_el Whispers (What an Ang_el has observed...) I give you a plausible Answer to that aged and ancient of all questions:

"What does a Woman Want?"

A Woman wants to lead as leaders do, while she follows blindly. They want to stand by your side; in front of you and behind you; on your shoulders and on your back, while she is equal, yet not equal to you. She wants you to care for her and her family, as long as you do not care for her or her family, because she can care for herself and her family without you.

     She wants you to fend her, as long as you do not fend for her, because she can fend for herself and for you with what you have provided for her. Defend her against all odds if you dare, because she can defend herself, when the odds are in her favour. She wants you to do what she says, when she says, because she says to, as long as it was your idea. She wants you to listen, until you're deaf, when she can finally say, you're not listening to her.

     She wishes to be equal to you, because she is woman, but your equality is nonexistent, because she is after all a woman. She is your only delight, your joy and your pain, when pain has no joy or delight. You must see only her and no other, except for those she points out to engage you in meaningless comparison, which leads inevitably to arguments you cannot win. She shall question you on subjects you have little business answering and force you to answer so she can claim you never cared. She will force you into a corner only to claim you cower there. She will strike you like a man and claim you started it.

     Any form of defense is hers to use, but you are not allowed to defend yourself against her tirades. The World is Man’s fault, while she rules your world, because she is all that. She no longer cooks, cleans or does any form of feminine chore, they are beneath her, because her man will do anything for her. She will exhaust your life and your energies quickly, only to claim sole dominion.

     She wants you to spend 24 hours a day in her company, never leaving her side; except for the 24 hours a day you spend working to provide the things she wants. She wants a pair of shoes for every colour in the rainbow; a Diamond for every star in the heavens; a bag to hold everything or to hold nothing and an outfit to match each and every shoe, jewel and purse.

     She wants everything from you; she wants nothing you, she wants you to serve her, hand and foot, yet never be her slave, because she slaves for herself. She wants anything and everything her heart desires and everything your hearts desires, as long as everything your heart desires is “her”. She wants you to cuddle, to squeeze her and keep her safe and warm, as long as you never touch her.

     She wants you to cherish her every day and night, but never stray too far from her demands and commands because she believes she is Nature itself; never taking responsibility for that, which she has wrought with her simplistic ideals. Ideals which have dragged Mankind backwards down the path of evolution.

     She wants you to understand her, when she doesn't understand herself; to know her when she doesn't know herself and to trust her when she doesn't trust herself. She wants you to see her for whom she really is, under the fake hair, fake nails, fake breasts, fake lashes, the make-up, the lifts, the tucks and all the alterations she may make to herself and her body, but she wants you to be real.

     She is engaged in a constant battle with weight and the desire to eat anything she wants, because it’s all good for her and it’s all bad for her, as she diets without exercising and exercises without dieting; remembering at all times, it’s entirely your fault, even though you've done nothing wrong. She wants to be the center of attention even when she is nowhere in sight. She wants your life to revolve, evolve and orbit hers even when she does not care that you exist.

     In essence, she claims she knows everything and she wants everything, while she doesn’t really know what she wants, but whatever she wants, she wants it now. Once she has had it, she no longer wants it; unless and until someone else wants it, then she wants it back. Everything is hers for the taking, because she is woman and she will share with her female friends until her female friends want what she wants. If there is something in the world that can be had, a Damsel wants it and she will drag every female with her into the abyss that is her selfishness. All Damsels want and will always want more.

     All females believe they are the same, while males regard themselves as similar to each other; theirs is a competition, which is more civil, more open and more visible, unlike that of the females. The female on the other hand is more devious and cunning. Hers is an imaginary world, in which she rules the world; where she wants for nothing, where all things are provided for by the male, but thus, was once the case and then it was not enough. Is her ideal now the end of all things? fore that is the direction the Damselle points the species.

     Nature will and can never be the mother as claimed, because Nature does not abandon it young needlessly, nor does Nature have offspring out of spite, without responsibility or casually. Nature nurtures life in all its forms, it promotes balance and harmony among all things, where the human female, both Damselle or Nurturer, do not.

     In Nature the male is the giver of life; the nurturer does exactly that, it nurturers the life given, educates it and brings it into the world, where it is further trained to become the adult its parents are; unlike humans. I have yet to discern where the human female garnered the ideology that Nature would be perceived as a member of so cunning and devious sex, but Nature is far more kindly than either the of two human sexes.

Why she wants it? She can never tell you, but she wants it, now and she want it ALL!

Observe this as the last of this text; the female should look not for what she can gain from any relationship with another, but to what she can contribute to the Unity of the Species. Anything short of this continues the downfall of the entire Species. Is there a female among the humans of this Earth willing to be the continuing architect of another removal from another Paradise? Where in the Universe will the Species relocate to, once Mankind has destroyed this One?

© copyright R Anthony H. Rock