Land of Milk or Honey
By: Alex Payton
Storified politics for the overwhelmed soul, take in the lessons to ease all woes. These stories have names, maybe even your own, from which they came, many seeds sowed. Yet nevertheless, these parables must be told.
Once upon a time in the land of Milk OR Honey lived two unequal families, one of which was lactose intolerant. Yet even with these two choices there was still another, a family which lived in the land yet unknown to the others. Three boys came from these three different unions, & excuse the writer for the lack of she’s, but they still come from mothers. Now, from the land of honey, one boy had two parents who very strong willed, and who worked through their tummies. See greed was the carrot and their legs kept on churning and that boy soon grew to learn his so called fair duty. Now in the land of milk lived a very itchy boy, he had but one parent some would label a strong little girl. They had very little and worked much from scratch, resulting in many blisters that grew on their backs. Lactose intolerant they did not belong, but “where to?”, the mother cried, “for I have to take care of this all on my own.”
In the land drenched in honey the parents buzzed around, both keeping jobs they placed their young boy around. As he learned and he learned from the places he was placed, he found his true calling, for there was too much at stake, in a world surrounded by danger someone had to protect the great. See, he was one child spoiled senseless by two parents who on the day of thanksgiving prepared for very large palates, and in the result that boy grew so callus.
Yet, there, where the Milk spilled, the people cried all over, the mother rowed her milky boat on the way to her next callings, which came after her other calling as her son called on she replied back, “someone’s got to pay these bills so little boy get along.” So he learned and he learned from the places he could, saw very much danger that lived in his hood, something about that relationship made him feel no good. One day he was poorly labeled while stealing some goods, see he took some ointment for the blisters that grew an allergic reaction to a land which pain he could no longer withstand. He knew no other option so he took what he could and they locked that boy up for he was no good. And with little meaningful evaluation they took him from his mother, called her unfit for breeding such a bother. When the boy stood his trial they preached, “boy, be thankful for what you are given” then they sent him away and left him without giving.
Two boys now men and that one from the land of dripped Honey, became a very proud Police Officer who over did his called duty. The boy now turned man from the land of spoiled Milk, had a job scrubbing toilets and due to sad life events, was only left to scrub toilets within the land of great Sin. On his way back from work in a sequence unforgiving he was pulled over for no reason and a red lights were all he was seeing. Pulled over by the boy now turned callus officer, who in his life’s great giving had never seen such a muck, so in his absence of familiarity labeled him a crook. In a cup full of milk this was the last straw, for that man started to run for no longer will he go on. The proud cop now in shock for why would one run? This is the land of Honey so he shot right after he drawn. His weapon aimed at the back so at the time he didn’t face it, a man shot down and a cop who believed he followed his basics. Now laying shot down that man looked above, he damned the great heavens as his last breath forgone, he faded away unforgiving for a life greatly mislead.
Now in the land of spilled milk the people cried loud, they took the shooting as a sign of a fate of their own. So they marched and they marched right into the land of Honey where the boy turned officer was held with much glory. Now the two lands they fought and they fought and they fought, which stirred a bad stew in which milked boiled on over and the honey turned to glue. That once proud officer now left with nothing to protect for at the at the end of the fight there was little life left, he was stuck in his glue and that boy turned to officer fully aware, died of belly grumbles. But don’t mourn my dear reader, I hope you did not forget, for there was life still living as I mentioned, there was one family left.
Out in the forest lived one happy boy whose family remained in nature which left little trouble to toil. He learned from the birds and the forest creatures of alike, who within their many differences seemed to work together within the right. They needed no cops or outside protection, for the idea of defense was a particular life’s own interest. Which the boy did protect keeping his land away from hunters, he had little conflicts with those not of his own. He learned and loved so very much from his mother who gathered food from the bush they ate for their supper, which gave more than they took they ate happily on. They lived amongst greats in a world that was living, where the milk came from cows and the honey where the bees where building. He learned much about his duty to the world very much giving, for he grew into the man who in curiosity journey walked upon another man’s unforgiving. He first weeped, then he sowed and he sowed and he sowed in the land within arrogance man happily once sold. He brought it back into nature the land unforgiving, the people who once hated each other followed with much forgiving. They saw what they forgot in the arrogance of their conflicting and together they grew into their own true nature. No longer would they forfeit to another man’s rules, for nature provided the blueprints in which all relationships grew. They knew one another and learned just the same, that this land grew to a garden something like the bible’s land of Israel, if my readers need a name.
The effort in this story is that life is far from the either and the or, in which the troubles of our day may have an easier cure. With police murders rampant, if you don’t mind me asking, what is this “police officer’s” duty that we are always damning? For if one knew one’s neighbor would there ever be such need? To contract in agreement with people whose differences come in many degrees. One day I do wish for issues dealt within much more ease, using a light shed upon self rather than continue with sad pleas. Where we dance to war drums and lack of faith drops us to our knees. Little do we know how we’ve been conditioned away from self, bad habits educated in school yards for evil puppet masters to meld. But I write not in ignorance that this message will go by, so I’ll make sure I’ll pray that a better suited one lands close by. But for those who have listened, please seek one another out. Be merry with what you have, Know Thy Self gives a shout. See with your eye the beautiful color of the world you live in, see you too can bring greater meaning in another man’s life’s beating. Spread the love, let it run, let it pour out and give a shout. I pray too that your message brings great light about.