Love from God by Robert Fullarton Copyright 2016

Love from God

by Robert Fullarton

Copyright 2016

Those who have been deprived of love for instance are seeking such love in volumes but are going in all the wrong directions. Whether it be seeking acceptance from the world, money, power, alcohol, porn or drugs, people want these alternatives to the real thing itself, God's love, accepting who we are, life then becomes a sacred process of changing, loving and learning, despite the hardships we may go through, there is a beauty, a silver lining around even the most bulbous black clouds, that takes our breath away and that's God.

The pain that came into our hearts at some stage in our life was never resolved, no answers were given to many, and so we followed suit like the unknown crowds among us and we doubted all things, and believed life was like a sentence, without synopsis, plot, meaning, power and love.

Most did what the man next to him did and fell away, in the face of all the troubles of the world, the unrelenting colossus of suffering in its many forms, lead us to alternatives and substitutes to God. But still the curiosity was killed whenever risen, when thinking about him,despite the fact that doubt solves nothing, men lived on mere battery power, but did not excel in spiritual brilliance!

What can fill the hole within our hearts, the emptiness within our lives, the goal that does not die, but so to speak, lives beyond the pale of the living and the dead! You do not have to sail across the ocean or fly the length and breadth of the equator. You do not have to walk into the most lavish cathedral paid in human hardship. You can pray to him, where you are, at this moment for God is with you even through the darkness, for all our troubles are opportunities for him to show how powerful he really is! Love is power, his love is tremendous, and let us know that he is with us. The seeker finds, what his heart hungers for, he who calls right through the night will be heard, though he may be tired from the restless travails of the human world. Seek him in your place and he will take you!!

“I think human beings must have faith or must look for faith, otherwise our life is empty, empty. To live and not to know why the cranes fly, why children are born, why there are stars in the sky. You must know why you are alive, or else everything is nonsense, just blowing in the wind.” 
― Anton Chekhov

Seasons in a man’s heart by Robert Fullarton Copyright 2016

Seasons in a man’s heart

by Robert Fullarton

Copyright 2016

Seasons in our lives

God given flowers

By the wayside moment

Before tumbling headfirst

Into the hurricane again.

Rest in the storm’s eye

Where a drop of peace

Patters the soul

To quench it of its thirst

Against the material desert

Of the dying western star

The chatterers circle

Flows as muck

On paper and on air

Where unbelieving hearts

Are taken nowhere new

But four corners

Of the empty contention

At the border of tomorrow

You see the premonition

When childhood’s wooden world

Was burnt away for Iron modern atheism

Do not go down

Into the town

Where blood, and tears

With human fears

Were sowed

Where the malefactors rode

Rest in the storm’s eye

Where a drop of peace

Patters the soul

To quench it of its thirst

Against the material desert

Of the dying western star

Foxes have holes

But the Son of Man

Has nowhere to rest his head.

Boulders brush the brittle soul

Where love like a helpless foal

Is crushed, yet the core

Is waiting for the resurrection

Man as the accidental machine? Against the psychology of atheism by Robert Fullarton, Copyright 2016

Man as the accidental machine?

Against the psychology of atheism

by Robert Fullarton, Copyright 2016

Greek Thinking and Roman living these two facts can be attributed to modern western civilization and to what people collectively call “the west”.We have seen the emotional castration of our civilization, whose belief in inventing meaning does not relate to the reality and logical answer that there is a fundamental meaning underlying all things seen and unseen in existence.

The Greek Socratic method of rigorous analysis has been taken too far, with a minimalistic, reductionist pattern of reducing men to a chemical process, life to anarchic chance and hope to a nullified fantasy. Upon these presumptions there can be no terms for hope, law, order, happiness and especially meaning itself. No subjective invention of meaning can exist or survive after these consequences are discussed and concluded. Man’s identity is not reduced to the medical dictionary, nor is it grounded in the neuro-chemical processes the modern minimalist seeks in vain to achieve. All those who try to explain a rational, empirically based encounter with the supernatural or even explain the psychology of belief itself (and in this instance I am talking specifically about Christianity itself) are fought with vigorous objections based upon supposed technicalities of science in which many sceptics and secularists use with presuppositions, with biasness and without considering the kernel of the believer’s postulation. One digs deep into philosophy to destroy the very abstract basis of thought, argument and order, one digs up the ground beneath one’s feet to try to disprove that there is any rational power behind life and yet proclaims his own view to be rational.

Science has to have a point to make, it must have a conscious truth behind it, to which it all answers to, it is after all purely the fields of observation, method, analysis and deduction of what exists, they are the raw material of a scene in which any person would assume must have a master who attends to it, as a creator who is empty from his studio, we do not presume that the art studio itself is just a self-created mess, but one which is a paradigm of beauty with a reason to pursue, and with ultimately a master artist whose head is full of visions of breathtaking beauty and innovation.

Frankenstein has in this version, in this world, worked hard at making himself a monster, or more truthfully has denoted that he is no entity of choice,( including one of free will, creativity, a God made creation, one drawn to the powers of the creative and emotive processes -as well as the field of scientific analysis- but is a machine of the principa naturalis, of a blind unthinking process, in fact the contradiction states that he cannot even trust his own line of thinking, since he was accidently made by nothing, becoming some-thing, being mindless and suddenly one day bearing the credentials and powers of conscious thought and contemplation.

To use psychology as the coup de grace to theism is in reality the exposure of the modern secularist-materialist worldview, all men are prone to belief, none can be indifferent, none can escape the fundamental reality of a thinking creature called man, who posits thoughts and lives upon his beliefs, which he acts out in accordance with his beliefs and ultimately his actions are based upon what he believes. Yes I am stating that atheism is a religion and one which is different to all others, it is a dreadfully novel religion which came about from the processes of pursuing the Hellenistic civilization of rigorous analysis, critical analysis, scepticism, cynicism and individualism. Individualism too, can be bad, it promotes selfish interest ahead of the community, ahead of being a part of a conscious whole (I myself used to be one to expound on individualism and now have seen the other side of the coin!) and one who puts others before himself!

This civilisation was cemented by the lambasting works of the so-called enlightenment philosophers, who demoted life to an accidental process which was followed up by the likes of Darwin, Marx, Freud, Nietzsche and Sartre and many became ideologically driven, however much of the secularism was promoted by the belief in a monistic universe, that is the philosophy of atheism and the belief in secular society.

Dread has been the final word of the promoters of a supposedly “dead and unintelligible universe”. Such have deconstructed the forms of order upon which a society is based upon, a real Christian society for instance is based upon Christian action, its nexus is upon the paradigm of Christ, upon eternal life, upon eternal peace to one’s neighbours and harmony with God. One’s actions are the fruits of one’s beliefs.

Psychology is not a means for promoting the secular-atheist belief system but instead should be the mirror in which men know their own limitations, know of their bad nature in action and need for salvation and hope.

Such exists the imperfections of our thought patterns, with the limits of our reaches, in depth, in abstraction, in semantics, in epistemology (knowledge) in the abolition of metaphysics and failure to comprehend who God is and what his power concludes and entails. We do not comprehend eternity in its wholeness but only summarize a square inch of thought, usually based upon a biasness to remove God from the picture and from the heart of life.

Most civilizations both before the Modern Greco-Roman religion of progress and those present here today outside of it, have a basic belief in a supreme being of sort, and have a sacred view and belief of both creation and its origins, they do not give themselves to the rigour mortis of worshipping the mere material of creation, their order of thought and culture comes from their belief and worship of their god or gods, for them it is a top to bottom ordered structure. The cultural anthropologist knows this, the implications of destroying belief destroys culture and ultimately makes man made laws akin to God centred truths, in such we have made our morals open to be compromised, because we question everything unto death, and as Kierkegaard stated, “we doubt everything to death!” It is not that the fact dies but merely understanding dies in the process of a utopian riddled world (who pursues Marxism, environmentalism, scientism etc) to replace the God centred life, actions and claims of Jesus Christ.

The world will know no other outside of the man who stated “love your enemies, forgive your enemies, do not repay evil for evil, turn the other cheek to he who slaps you!” The world will know no other from the man who stated he rose from the grave so to give us life beyond death, to know God, to be forgiven and ultimately become a creature of a new creation. Christianity is unique among the world’s faiths in that it is the only one which states you can know the creator himself, that he wants to have a relationship with you and that he personally became part of the creation, stepping in to save his people from the contamination of sin and showing them the way unto perfection.

The attrition of the body is for the glory of the soul! Let us not believe life to be a sham or the sliver of life of between the poles of darkness

All go into the dark nonetheless, but we must have confidence, certainty and happiness that we shall emerge from the other side for where the light shines bolder and more beautiful than ever before. All that exists surely is a fraction of what is contained beyond the pale of our mortal sight!

The Crocodile Part 3 by Robert Fullarton copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

The Crocodile Part 3

by Robert Fullarton

copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

After leaving the crocodile to his own “devices” Blomquist found himself that night in his suspended bed conflicted in his feelings and he began to have doubts as to whether he could even go ahead with the experiment. He even had feelings of affection for the creature.

“His noble mouth smiles a cheery grin to me, his fixed gaze always wins my admiration! His calculated, meticulous stride, shows a sense of confidence that reminds me of the Burgmaster and his handsome face!” Blomquist spoke aloud to himself as he sat up in his bed, with its broken springs, damp mattress and torn coverings.

The night passed in tranquillity, a artificial peace between man and beast seemed to exist, in the air there hung a tension of anxiety that woke Blomquist early from his slumber. The sun rose above the cobbled rooftops of Gustavia, illuminating the steeple and the cupola of the St.Sebastian church and the adjacent graveyard where the distinguished forefathers of the kingdom had fought for the country’s independence and had since long been forgotten in time. All was once straightforward, so seemingly simple, life was short but sweet for the peoples of Gustavia, but these days it has become long, boring and bureaucratic!

The light deviated through the wooden panels in the attic bedroom, it was akin to a heavenly revelation, and in response the eccentric miser Blomquist, moaned aloud to himself with the lights beaming through, and after much consternation he returned to sleep once again.

On the first day of the experiment Blomquist tried to test the creature’s movements with regard to its communications skills. The crocodile would only move so long as the raw chicken pieces were thrown right in front of him! The creature was sitting out once again at the back of Blomquist’s house bathing in the sun, stubborn to move but staring at him on occasion baring a toothy grin that gave Blomquist the impression he was smiling at him in gratitude for all his “lessons in domestication”.

By the time evening had arrived, with no work completed in either the post office -with an entire office of angry, poorly paid employees lying idle, post unattended too, complaints gathering force, not to mention the threats of action that were issued to Blomquist that very afternoon- all energy was lost, time had been consumed in the efforts of changing, “breaking”, training and domesticating the rather bemused crocodile.

Delusions and illusions of grandeur ran through Blomquist’s mind. He indulged in the possibility of inviting all the members of Gustavia’s elite to dinner some evening-or at least the one’s he wanted to impress anyway- and show them his “well behaved crocodile”. He imagined inviting Heinrich the artisan, Rotweiler the head of the Nord Banken, Minister Daschund of the interior government and his wife. These were all prestigious people who had letters after their name and he had always been fearful in the company of such socialites, where the candle lit dinner dinners sparkled, the gluttony reached such heights as to create such terrible gastric utterances that the stomach, bowels and lower intestines were capable of reaching. It was another world. Was he going to try it on for size?

The crocodile had to behave himself, he could be dressed up, displayed by the door or the fireplace where the gentlemen would leave their boots to dry on a rainy evening, after giving their cordial salutations. He would be made to look pretty, give his claw, bow before Rothweiler, smile his toothy grin before minister Daschund and give a full freemasons’ handshake to the Burgmaster without delay and without making a hash of it! Yes he thought to himself that would indeed be the cherry on a very voluptuous cake!

The Second death of Rome -By Robert Fullarton -Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

The Second death of Rome
-By Robert Fullarton
-Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016


In the age of buying and selling
we feast until the final days
while the dregs of the barrel are emptied
but my soul cannot be sustained
in what I see, In what I feel
I've roamed these teaming streets
midnight pawns on the chess board
a phantom in the hall of mirrors
This masked entourage disturbs me
in the world encroaching city,
like desert sand in my weary heart
The crowds spill out unto the roads
inside my conscience haunted me
while we eat and drink
in these haunts of a failed civilsation
these gastric pantheons,
these mounds of comfort and great disparity
spoke to me
and my soul was troubled in the dead of night
when the advertisements ceased
and the words of hate
were shut from our lips
I started to think and think well,
In a moment a man can see
a retrospective mirror
seeing the full capacity
and the image of his nature
knowing his worst abilities
to pierce the heart and soul
for regeneration
He clasps his hands in prayer
where cities fold like poker hands
This is not the first death
but the second death
of a sickly Rome
from the Alexanderplatz 
to sunset Boulevard 

The Crocodile Part2 By Robert Fullarton Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

The Crocodile Part2

By Robert Fullarton

Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

II

Blomquist lay alone in his wooden abode, where his bed lay suspended on wooden beams, in an eccentric fashion in the shadows of his attic room. It was a sparsely furnished room, Spartan, bare and utterly unromantic to look upon, he was one of those good old fashioned misers! He had money, yet he did his utmost not to spend it but to hoard it. He if he did indeed spend money it was mainly for the utilities of “daily life” or for the “pursuits of making money”.

The climes of the now semi-redundant St.Sebastian Church played out, like an old fighter fighting on, still crying out, having been “put to death by the legislation of Gustavia” and yet it remained as a noble, sublime giant, which even its enemies marvelled in as a piece of the puzzle in their own confused identity. The dawn was like bleach blond ale poured out upon the amber, almost gingerbread like houses which were reflected like milk upon caramel coloured brown. It was beautiful, like a child’s dream in play, but Blomquist was stubborn to reside in the shadows, where only fingers of light could penetrate through the wooden panels above his bed.

Milkmaster Hummel reluctantly knocked on the door of Blomquist’s abode, promptly at the agreed time. Hummel handed him the specially designed steel cage with its four locks on either side, holding Iron grafts in place with Iron mesh and a muzzle over the crocodile’s mouth.

“Here, I hand you the keys to the locks. Feed him the raw meat I have left for you, don’t over feed him as they sometimes just like to heat themselves in the sun, to warm their blood and they often like to be left alone. Are you sure you still want to take him? I mean they are rather horrible creatures who show no affection and no personality,” said Hummel standing apprehensively in the great hall of Blomquists’home.

“I think they are like man. His instincts are rather simple to see, don’t we know man’s badness when we collectively observe it from the history books! He too is a killer! But oh how man is easily bribed like a crocodile with a piece of raw meat! I however want to tame the crocodile like man has been tamed by society. Hasn’t man been tamed from these times of peace?”

“How can man tame man and ultimately change the instincts and the motives that are encased inside his mind?”

Out of the cage glared the hypnotic eyes of the beast, a reptile whose existence was base, a creature who consumed without much thought whose institution was that of a killer.

“Personally I think your attempt is juvenile and the experiment will be a failure! To be honest any change will falter in time and these creatures will revert back to their old nature in time.” After voicing his objections, Hummel, bade farewell to his friend, leaving behind the keys, the equipment, the food and the cage itself and he hurried out through the garden gate.

The crocodile just stared into space as it sat in the corner of Blomquist’s dark brown mahogany kitchen, beside the long dining room table as Blomquist ate his supper of kippers and pickled cabbage soup in his dressing gown. Was the crocodile thinking to himself? Was he planning some sort of great escape, saving up precious energy so to make a run for the nearest chicken coup at the end of Blomquist’s long back garden?

“Hmmm..he does’nt say much!”

“He’s contemplating something, he’s rather different to say a parrot or a dog, he doesn’t vocalise, he thinks! Scientists have got it wrong! The crocodile is a pensive, introspective creature and if he is capable of thinking, then surely he has feelings too! He’s most likely upset that I never even offered him some of my kippers and pickled cabbage soup. It was impertinent of me to just leave him on the Persian rug while I drink claret, eat and sit in comfort.”

With a few pieces of raw chicken, he coaxed the creature step by step as it slowly crawled towards him out onto the back lawn where the crocodile was lured into a wooden outhouse, which had formerly been a toilet and a tool shed.

“There you go this shall be your living quarters and tomorrow at first light we will begin your training and then the experiment shall commence!”

The crocodile just about crawled into the outhouse, over the wooden steps enticed by the raw chicken thrown in his path, lured cunningly while Blomquist locked and bolted the animal in, ignoring milkmaster Hummel’s advice about “keeping the creature in his cage”.

Suddenly the sound of garden equipment could be heard crashing and tumbling, with sheer pandemonium as the crocodile swung his tail both left and right trying to find a spot to settle down in the poky outhouse. After leaving several large holes in the wooden circumference of the shack, the creature settled down and there was silence. It was an eerie silence and a warning against the eccentric delusion in which the poultry farmer entertained and in time his dreams were to be greatly disturbed!

The Crocodile By Robert Fullarton Part 1. Copyright 2016 Robert Fullarton

The Crocodile

By Robert Fullarton

Part 1.

Copyright 2016 Robert Fullarton

These days perfection is apparently not something assigned to our spiritual and moral pursuits. But it has become a gilded, well smoothed facade, shapely and beautiful in appearance but bearing the grave insecurities of a people whose pot-marked, hollowed insides are adorned like a summer cottage.

In the town of Gustavia, the wealth and prosperity of the merchants, the brewers, the tradesmen and diplomats had succeeded beyond previous expectations, where wealth flowed and where men abandoned their old beliefs for the 10 a-penny philosophies that circulated the continent. In this land neighbour became a stranger unto stranger, love became unknown as these strangers mingled in the mist of a severe loneliness which the societies of the continent had ever known before.

Johann Blomquist had earned a meagre living running his own poultry farm along with the local postmaster’s office. Along with his professional duties with chickens and postmen he took a keen interest in the new advances of “societal science” and the world of animal psychology. The notion of perfection through experimentation is in vogue these days and even a “gamble for science” is seen to be excusable so long as it yields results for further studies on the road to a perfect knowledge in the field of study.

In Gustavia you see formalities bear a serious weight, streets are spotless, clean, often empty of people, with curfews extending on utterly unsociable hours, with all horse drawn carriages having been dismantled and all mares having been liberated from the Animal Labour Act Section 445, Sub section 25, technicality 15.

Blomquist had heard about previous experiments on turning lions into vegetarians, teaching dogs to be concertina performers and the teaching of table manners to Hyenas (but oh how their horrible laughter shattered the ear drums of the local convent sister superior who sued the Burgmaster for his outlandish methods of daring in the field of social science!).

Johann was intrigued and inspired when his friend, Milkmaster Karl Hummel brought him a present from the local Zoologist Jan Steiner and of course he took the matter to heart.

“Ahh blasted crocodile has eaten my cellar out of food, my beloved Tilsit cheese! My Serrano Ham, my leg of ham, my cuts of Beef from the butcher! He’s trampled over my cabbage patch and that tail of his, oh he swung it with such force that he knocked my wife out cold, not to forget he tore through my letter box with those tremendous teeth of his!”

“Hmmm..a crocodile! A fine animal, an enigmatic killer, notoriously known to be without emotive reasoning! Said Johann in amusement, clasping his hands in wild excitement!

“Yes”, said Hummel. “A notoriously cold blooded monster, Unchangeable not to be kept for domestic use or for any other purpose other than perhaps for the consumption of intruders!” Said Hummel with a brief expression of humour in his demeanour. “Yes perhaps the army could breed these creatures for the advancement of stealth warfare and catch our enemies off guard!”

“Karl! The zoologist has given you a gift for which we Gustavians must test the water with! We are the pursuers of perfection, pioneers in creating order out of the chaotic wilderness around us and yes we too can be the first people to tame crocodiles and make them behave themselves when in the presence of Noble stock!”

“You want to tame a crocodile!” Exclaimed Hummel simultaneously stupefied and amused.

“Yes Karl! Not just tame the creature, but train it and ultimately change its nature in time. If we introduce it to all the fixtures and luxuries of good living it is bound to concede to such temptations and give up its raw and brutal nature for my ploys in time. “

“Men have failed so far in their efforts to change the fundamental nature of animals and come to mention it men cannot change men, as we are stubborn in our refusal to listen to those talk sense in the face of the human will to dominate! All this comfort, with Gustavian wealth and privilege has gone to the heads of the people!” Said Hummel getting a little flustered in response.

Blomquist toyed with the idea, thought hard with a foolish grin upon his face, despite the mockery of the milkmaster, he eventually begged him into concession. “For the sake of their friendship!” Hummel agreed to bring over this Reptilian curiosity the very next morning.

Johann in sheer adulation closed the post office early that day, ushering his staff into the front office he stated, “work today has been relegated to the importance of science, I’ve got a very important visitor coming tomorrow and I’ve got to prepare for him!” Despite the strong protestations of several furious towns people.

The scent of wild flowers could be smelt in the summer sun, like an alcohol which had fermented by the end of the day, after the long hours of light and exposure to the air, this indeed intoxicated Johann as he walked along the vibrantly painted wooden houses of Gustavia. From the post-office he trotted in gentle gait until the adulation overtook him, like a perfect moment in the making of a perfect life, he sprinted through the cobbled pathways, bellow the archways, past the markets and the Stadtpark. The burning sun was a line of fire hazily seen upon the fine line of the horizon.