TIME...The Book (International Video Trailer)

TIME...For our Best Deeds and Words

The Right Words...Move Nations

In the last analysis, words will determine the course of  our existence. Pray they are the right ones. At the same time, words resting in the wrong hand are more dangeous to the human condition then any arsenal of weapons ever assembled by man.

T A McNeil

DREAM...Then go do great things

TIME...The Book (Video Trailer)

TIME...For our Best Deeds and Words

The Right Words...Move Nations

In the last analysis, words will determine the course of  our existence. Pray they are the right ones.At the same time, words resting in the wrong hand are more dangeous to the human condition then any arsenal of weapons ever assembled by man.

T A McNeil

DREAM..Then go do great things

Archbishop Philip Hannan

Calling all you Angels...



The torch was passed..

Of Shores…

If you touch the winds that dance with stars

Hear gentle whispers of destiny’s heart

Soft souls of angels shall refrain

Of places for dreams with heavens’ care

Somewhere near shadows of beyond…

These sands of last eternities

T.A McNeil

Great  Human Being... Remarkable Heart

So again, let the word go forth

Defined by Deeds and Words…of our Times

Regardless of beliefs, it behooves us all to recognize and honour extraordinary stories and lives. These are the lives and people who are the real heroes and celebrities of our times. “The Archbishop Wore Combat Boots” tells the tale of such a hero, that all of us should admire. Read to understand the quality of character and how the value of small unsung deeds, shapes who we are. From Presidents, Popes or the people of New Orleans in their darkest hour, Archbishop Hannan dedicated himself to an unyielding standard of kindness and human concern.

So whether it was conveying the homily at the mass of John F Kennedy; attending to the humanity of troops on battlefields in Europe, or serving the on-going needs of the people of his own diocese, without the slightest hesitation he rose to the occasion. He did so many decades after most of us succumb to the calling of our golden years. Against the background of a society so possessed of celebrities and media stars, in sharp contrast we say let the ears of history know that Archbishop Philip Hannan is a true hero and symbol of our times. Of our hearts.

So, let his deeds and words go forth and echo the real spirit of our humanity and of what we hold in highest regard. Let his deeds and words go forth.

The poem “Of Shores” is a tribute to this hero. It has been recently passed and shared with him. So that in some small way, to let him know their are those who do forget the quality of his character and touch of his deeds. And to let history know he is a true and real hero of our times. Our hope is a cheery smile.

Any thoughts or comments? Simply email them to us and we will happily pass them on to his offices or send your tributes and appreciations directly. At the same time the book itself is highly recommended as an insight into the true celebrities and heroes not found in movies or media… but in the quiet journey of real life. Calling all you Angels….   



Invisible Genocide Lurks

Grandpa where's the oil?

Invisible Genocide Lurks in Empty Fields of Shame

Earth’s Children are silent …Grandpa why? WHY?

Insanity knocked on the door from arms of shallow remorse

Are you home?

The grime etched its presence into the mind near Jersey

Tomorrow forgot everything that it promised

These pockets have no dreams they were sold on

Fifth Avenue

Absurd, call Pacino tell him the dancers have broken legs

Luck was never in the cards when the ducks make bombs

A cat on a hot tin roof

The night festers in graveyards on the West Side guarded by the Walrus

I am the Walrus; I am the egg man... Goo goo g' joob

 

Mister you’re sitting on my toilet, his flowers long to sing Italian opera

Subways are my ballet in the summer, in the city

Just a cool cat looking for a kitty… in the city

Insanity wastes into grime and etches foul eternities of Warhol with Brando

They dance…Lennon just watches

A cat on a hot tin roof

Persuade me again liberty while we frolic with jewels of poets

Of true science found in the intestines of words …spill guts of souls

Contrast the dark with evil and then the stage caters to lost mortality

There is more sense in teacups whispers Tennessee’s script

Their words ushered by Popes and villains with keys to soured bliss

"There was no key held in existential dreams" said Toto

You can tell by my attitude… that I am most definitely from

 New York

Don’t answer the door, Goo goo g' joob
Call Pacino

There’s a cat on the hot tin roof…



Tell the unborn..."sorry we ate the apple"

T A McNeil

TIME...the Book

June 18,2011

So musings talk to trains....



The ocean's tormented tears screamed with its lost pain

So musings talk to trains flying to Heaven

        Only on Saturdays..

.

A mind wonders to no destiny

Sees a park bench walk beside a football player on a camel

The ballerina smokes her cigarette

While Santa hides the  bunny’s eggs

The soul flies from the fireplace

To hear

To sing

To laugh

The lonely bottle falls to a black grave

Despair smiles

With the tears and toilet litter of old musings

You see Stella

The ants in this town are just too big

Stella?

Stellaaaaaaaa…

It’s Saturday

let's hear it for NewYork

....

T A McNeil.

TIME…The Book

June 3, 2011

ThE saD FATe OF monKeys



Geeeeeze...all they serve are bananas?

ThE saD FATe OF monKeys

Brains cells are taxed by journeys of metaphysics

Lost they are in the seven senses of existence

Two lesser or greater defined and buried in the maze of intuition

You feel them and know these invisible elements will create…

An unknown paradox to live

So you ask yourself then embark to travels untold

Why do I touch a weeping wind?

Why do I see the dark not there?

Why do I smell a bitter rose?

Why do I hear the sounds of broken lives?

Why do I taste sharp whispers of wars?

Why do I eat bananas when I travel with Monkeys???

                                                                                                T A McNeil 2010-10-07

   

Their Little Voices

Their Little Voices


 

Let them tell us

Let them guide us

Let them teach us

Let us listen

So we can learn again

What we forgot...

                                                                                                            T A McNeil, October 22,2010

                                                                                                         

After peak oil: Will the children play?




 



Let our hearts hear what we cannot see

His Letter to Liberty...Circa 1773

 " Never Surrender to Higher Powers...
Rather Death"

His letter to Liberty... circa 1773

My Dearest Lady;

Remove not your cortex

Nor caste the gutter your grey

One lesson to learn holds a hex

“Surrender to your higher power”

Wear your hooded gown

Ride and burn the sea of nights

Sweet blood your wake in town

“Surrender to your higher power”

Commandments I have to state

Genocide should not abate

Young lives to thirst my lust

“Surrender to your higher power”

My mind is but a waste

Our group the only grail

The chief we all must hail

“Surrender to your higher power”

To think will set a fate

That no pain could ever hear

When listening to passions of hate

“Surrender to your higher power”

Weapons were never found

Many children field the ground

Of shock and awe you did make

“Surrender to your higher power”

Bring me your well to do

Huddled masses of your elite

Have them preach more words anew

“Surrender to your higher power”

Fear not our hate or fates

Iron horses we will ride

With forty virgins at our sides

So fear not our hate or fates

“We surrendered to our higher power”

From learned trumpets of the angels

So Patrick Henry did refrain

One cause exceeds our deaths

The liberty we will gain…

That knows no higher powers

T A  McNeil

Dedicated to those who were lost and suffered, NYC September 11^th, 2001

www.twitter.com/bestdeedswords

     TIME . .. For our Best           

 2011 Book Trailer