Say I know, no question, what the Good News was,
the Jesus good news, but

nobody believes that. And its free good news. Who pays me?

Think Gaiman's American Gods,
true believers everywhere, no truth, no free ificity,

sufficient, suffice, artifice, artificial freedom, if

you can't imagine artificial freedom, how do u test AI?

we can imagine all sorts of hells, and miserable lost evers

all phantoms from the stories you've believed
believed by the tellers
who told you
you were naked.

Is this a theme?
Are we manufacturing sensible un-believable
idle word redemption tools.
DIY? No App?
Empowering the believers to unbelieve, at will, with effort?
Very little effort, but yes,
My calling, yes, previous to full-time Peacemaker.

I e-merge several streams of thought, gentle, --- un belief is,
it hurts like you imagined hell, almost exactly.

Monetize your lies,  who said do that?
you don't believe them do you?
The ones you tell
Where you know prayers are answered

Because
You
know sorta. Knowing a thing is so,
you know, defining.
Be and lieve together they make a meaningful
you know

Re-ifing and de-ifing,
being a believer in whom is no guile,
is that
actable.
Could a thespian make us believe he believes what I believe if he were me?

Is that in the bible,
that walk a mile as me proverb?
It's true, if you do it, in your head or mind,
if you think mind ain't matter

or doesn't matter, okeh.

I don't.
D'I ever tell you about the time I realized I was safe,
lazy days o' summer,
way back when was no TV, no video nuthin, then

when I woke, I was here as sure as I am,
that I know next

to nothin for sure,
and for a blameless,
shameless old man, who catches Jesus winkin'
in his thinkin' ever day,

' cain't say damday and asaid it anyway.

It's about time I tell my story, if that is my job.
My story means the story I tell,
the one I think I believe I know and enjoy.

Tellin' it, I en joy en trance, never thrall.

Life is predominantly fun.
Empiric evidence. Take it, by faith,
we all know how,
we laugh and say we don't, but we are lost with out it,

no hope.
Oh, my God, desperate for you.
They sing that, they call such singing praise.

Somehow they have come to believe
Christ has left them desperate for any good things,
forsaken them after promising
other wise

Who would teach a chile such a song in Jesus's
whole body, I swaneee

Hopeless, t's what desperate means,
desperados are not disciples
of the tendency to a bias toward good, by grace.
nosireee
---
Can I speak living words,
is that living water flowing from me,
if I agree with the story I am telling,

Yes, all the promises of God.
Come let us reason,
we are past the scarlet sin.
Sin means disconnect in today's terms,
missed aimed-at-thing's the original Greek expression that
made it to the Bible.

And a blog is as good as a book, some say,
as far as words are concerned, meaning-wise

but spoken words go farther, these days.

Rhetoric is returning to try men's souls,
and the peasants have Google and IDW
(Intellectual Dark Web wuwu)

and the real Bible Daniel and Ezra 'n'em put together from all the sources they could muster under the banner of
Lest we forget.

Was that the banner spoken of
by the prophet so and so?

Could be.
Runner-up th'pole 'n'see who kneels.

Emoji winks are too cheezy for real poetry,
you never see 'em in songs.

Jesus winks but not at
your-my disconnection from re-ality.

We can't be **** Sapience Sapience
if we don't think about thinking.

The unexamined life's not worth living,
old Greek guy saying.

Jesus saying, as a man thinks, so is he.

And I think he was talking about good and evil.
A man can think good and evil, but

(and this is one of those forever buts I mentioned last time I was thinking on this thread),
evil can't swallow good. No matter how long it chews.

Funny, really, how stuff works.
We all live until,
as far as we do know now,
time
for conscious mortal me,
each
of us in this we, me
ceases.

De-sist,
recall the way it feels to lay your armor down
and know,

I ain'tagonnastudy war no more.

But, we are called,
chosen to fight the good fight of faith, Amen.

Ah, men,
we ain't got enemies.
We fought.
You believe you believe or you don't.

Have fun and don't make anybody miserable
and stand up straight,
with your shoulders back, good advice.

Next. There is a reason to go farther,

I think, but don't know right now, what that reason is.

Praying being asking for assistance in persistence,
I am praying this is plain, past simple, plumb to sublime.

Oh my DREAM Why you had fallen in love with Mr.Leave..

GONE , throwing behind you my hope wounds flowing, UNBELIEVE..

How..?! WAIT is there a way?! please listen to my deep HEAVES..


Not much remains to FLY together,  come back please , don't make me GRIEVE

I feel happiest when i’m writing about sadness. The words drain out of my heart and onto the paper and it leaves me a little less heavy. These days I walk around with weights tied to my legs and balloons in my hands, constantly dragging myself down no matter how hard I try to float. Lately I’ve been using your name as an explanation for my sadness and for my relief and for everything in between. You are the sole cause and effect, you are the headline in a newspaper that contains only one article, written by me about you, for you. If I could I would do everything for you; but you don’t want that, do you? Every thought ends with you and every night ends with you and the end of me might be because of you, too. We’ve had our ups and downs and our ons and offs but the lights look like they’re flickering for the last time and I don’t think you’ll still be here when they come back on. You lit an electrical fire and then left me alone in the dark and I can’t see a clear way out of this mess. Even if there was one, I don’t think I could follow it. There’s something about the pain and the way you make it feel like safety that keeps me here on the brink of ecstasy and insanity. how many times are you able to tell yourself that the highs are worth the lows before it becomes the truth and you aren’t able to unbelieve it? If I could unbelieve every promise you ever made me I would, but someone once told me that there’s a sliver of truth in every lie and i’m pathetically hopeful for you. Sometimes my mind will wander and I'll realize that my thoughts aren’t the same as they were before and my heart doesn’t beat like it used to and I can’t find anything to blame for this other than you. It’s not fair that you had the power to give me something to look forward to, something to live for and then just rip it away and make it look just as easy, but you did. I will not forgive you because you will not apologize,  so i'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't enough to satisfy the expectations you set oh so high for love, and I'm sorry you weren't willing to give up the same as I was for what we had. I guess some things aren't meant to be no matter how much you wish for them. My only wish now is to forget you and I pray this one comes true.