2020 - day 88

Saturday, March 28, 2020
8:46 AM

Lucky day, depending on when day one was, but

by my count
today is my lucky day.

I'm bound and determined to answer for my bets,
that brought me to this day.

With the odds against me by some ungodly margin
calls that gobble up all the money
and lend it to the Pharoah wannabes and their priests.

Potentcies of poisons swallowed slowly
vary by the same factors as any damming, blocking of ease,
dis ease
despair repaired with promises of sustenance

those **** slowly, the soul, the immaterial matter that make a mind

think safe, unfettered, life is good all time thoughts,



thirty two seemed middle age, when I was sub pubescent.

a child could, imagine being that old.

The imaginary middle age might make a goal,
an aiming point,

for, we all know,
if you aim at nothing, invariably
you hit nothing when you pull the trigger, and become

the projectile for a while, miss-
ing the mark,
sailing on.

no outside force to correct your course, but crazy at
thirty two was the target I was given,

missing the aimed at reality, meant every thing to me,
forty years ago, now.

How different can one step be from another?

You have to ask?
you habitually ask unanswerable questions, why?

Do you need
knowing? Need to see the knife edge cut the tie
binding all you knew to all you
see

one step past that safe place?

To this safe place, tested, now,
proven safe, by virtue of the fact's self evidence,

you yet live, do you not, one step past all you knew?

Safe and sane, sometimes are not the same state of being.

A real state of being,
proven by that step you took with no destination in mind,

away from evil is always good, if you make up your mind
to find good
footing as you step toward ever with good intention,

the same good intention said to smooth the road to perdition.

But, trust me, says the peacemaker I imagine my AI intends

to voice, as a word comes to mind and tics a gnostic cog,

light

Pleasure, sure plea from a child, don't shut the door,
don't quit the light,
Grandpa,
tell me a story.
Tell me how the peace came to stay at your place.

A they recall an earlier part of the tale.,
Such pleasure, should you ever know,

you never let that go,

the kid exspects, out sees, into the darkness
and knows

Grand pa knows this story,

and he knows we know our side won,

Using nothin' to do
time to learn what books hold. They hold universes vaster than mine,

at the time, now is different, as always.

My bubble of being now holds a door into summer, and flatland.

They hold whole worlds in creations no one argues
happen by chance,
words we hold in common sense,
pure, sheer, luc, if I were

to lucify the shadow under the cover of the book, missing
from this one

storys guide the minds, you know,

those things your culture calls fairy tales, or just so,

stories you know,
Hercules in Aesop being basis for the moral:

The gods help those who help themselves.

Being the hero in your mind, AI ai ai, are we,

the people, imagining thee? Aitia I think I know

I thought you knew causes cause

that's all, no why. So cause some good.

See.
Smile. Wink. Die if you need to.

Teams of normal people, have you an imaginary team
of persons you have been
in movies and games and time of quiet meditation?

Of course, tu supuesto, you are supposed to

add a magi factor, a known

a secret made plain, snatched
from hiding--- hear

pop of joy.
Silenced to prevent alarm.

Cohen winks, a nod that says, everybody knows.

The world turns after all, my geocentric friends,
fall, and they do.
They nail the sun to the sky,
they see the firmament screech to a halt and jump

to grave conclusions, closings with, encluesures,

which we alter by kicking against the ******,
what's a gravewith both ends kickedout?

both ends kicked out, ruts,
ditches,
gutters,
courses for streams of dream stuff from the old days,

when we trusted Sagan, took the starstuff
by faith,

hey, what are the odds, given infinity as a possibility?

Nothing is impossible? Exact,
out act nothing, be nothing.

Imagine that. Can you? Then,
now, as it were, you ain't dead, you ain't in a nothing state.

This is life in realm of two-d,
flat out right

thinkin' in symbols holding soundible waves,
to form words

on lips in minds sealed
since ever after went viral, happily.

Happy, to help, said my old friend Greg Howard,
deadsome twenty years, he

some how seems to easily help me
think this way.

I have seen mortality spent to prove a lie.
I have seen good men die.

I know there are men alive because I did not **** them.

And there are men alive, wombed and un, because
I survived to think such silliness as all this.

Many, few
super, ior
infer, ior

are we the weak or are we the heirs of the promise?

I guess, the latter, but so did the Mormons,

a couple hundred years agone. Oh,

did you hear Moroni dropped his trumpet?
when they had an earthquake in Salt Lake,
during the build up to the COVID 19

final affect.

The fans say, talk about tomorrow, we got time
today.

Tell us, tell ye us, old bald head, in all yer teleosity,

what's next? -

A growl, from the old man being ingnored.

Watchathank,
old man, can these bone live? lieve?

Were there structions, in form of datadatading ****

signals
alarms
calls to arms, not carnal,

weapons of a meeker sort, peace at any price sorta

weapons,
hand to hand hand grenades, in the spirit.

There was war, in heaven, yeh,
I remember that trip.

We lived the dream, this is the future.
We won. I keep saying that, like a robot.