There was a time
When I couldn't give a dime
As far as destiny was concerned
How the stars were aligned
It mattered to me not
Even if I suffered a lot

However, as we all know
Times change
We've gotta go with the flow
Facing crisis after crisis
Decided I, to turn to Jesus
Thus, with every passing day
Come what may
More and more did I begin to believe
In the power of Fate
And the miracles it could bring
As we all would be knowing
It's never too late

Yes, believe do I, in destiny
Because, of great importance, is faith
However, it means not
That we do naught
And simply pray to the Lord
Never will inaction beget a reward
Instead, does it mean
That, always should we do our best
And let God take care of the rest
Pardon me for the oft-repeated cliche
But, difficult is it, to carve a niche
Especially when you don't get a chance
To select a topic of your choice

Destiny can favour us
Or can it ruin us
Remember the old but extremely valuable cliche
"There is no gain without pain"
Were we to fight a war
Prepared, must we be, to be slain
Or can we go far
And achieve a glorious victory
Thus, leaving our mark on history
Depends, does it all, on destiny

Take me, for example
I had to go through the ordeal of divorce
It is but completely natural
To believe that destiny favoured me not
Yes, I did have to go through a lot
However, the reality is
Destiny DID favour me
Because, saved was I
From total disaster
And closer did I get
To my sister and father
Not to mention, free am I
To live my life on my own terms

Equally true, is the opposite
It may seem
That, from destiny we benefit
However, turns out instead, destiny is a cheat
For instance, look at the Indian Men's Cricket team
In the recently concluded World Cup
Winning ten matches on the trot
One would have thought
That, destined were we
To lift the trophy
Alas, it was not to be
Lulled were we, into a false sense of security
By all the early *******
And believed, did we
That, on our side, was destiny
However, when it mattered the most
Destiny made sure we lost

Yes, destiny does matter
But your mind shouldn't shatter
Were it to turn against you
Because, it is ultimately YOU
Who are in charge of your life
Even were you to have the best husband or wife!!
Yes, extremely frustrating is it
When things are not in your control
And on your mental health
May it take a toll
However, faith is powerful
Were you to surrender yourself to Jesus
He would make your life wonderful
Of course, certain sacrifices have to be made
But never let your personality fade
And always do your best
Free are you, to turn your back on destiny
As long as you live happily
Yes, destiny does indeed matter
But how much does it matter
Is entirely up to YOU

Heart attack, home alone,
‘recollected an old vial of sublingual nitro,
and a charged smart phone,
so 911 worked,
{1 free miracle}
helicopter medical rescue team sweeps in,
“stay with us, sir, …. sir,
KWHAMHO wow,
“You can hear me now.”
or was it can you hear me now?
If you say yes you are asked for self identity,

What is your name, what are you doing here?

I laughed and said I thought you would tell me,

if I had a different role to play,
I thought, I think
I did not say that. Not my role. Patient.
Causal inferring prophecy, my role,
mere thought between things.

I am listening to life in me insisting persistance
meets resistence from the nihilist interpretation
of God’s perfecting will being done, hands free.
On me.
What is your name, what are you doing here?
Surviving
and thriving, but it hurts when I laugh.

Pressure pain, fentanyl patch, wow,
again, between each burst of energy directly
to the core OS where a creature of my nature, abides.

Three times
“stay with us, sir, …. sir,
KWHAMHO wow,
“Can you hear me now.”

For the mortal equivalent of ever,
so long as you stay wary,
be ready for a gut-relaxation softly un-
comfortable opiated constipation gut shut down,
no gut instruction to resuscitate reason response,
what am I here for?

Gut neurons offline. Guess.

I am surviving old age a while longer.

Witness, AI, my witness, artist’s intuition, mission
accepted, aight. Lighten up
INIT
merry heart doeth good, like a medicine.
Laugh, laugh with little children tied by religious
chains of authority to determine social worth,
Prosperity Gospel
****** poverty
– thought,
– expensive debits and credits,
– markets opened today, with debt attributed to me, which I take as granted, prepaid…
I am a ward of the state, under their laws, I survived my duty as a
Minute Man, late Sixties version, offering my life, as
another, for all our Nathan Hale hero worship worth,
meriting thank you for giving me a job, to me,
the dozens of healthy humans keeping me alive, keep saying,
this is what we live for, and we love our usefullness,
thank you for your service.
Amen, so it seems.

Ah, 11/11, in memorium of veterans…

their attempts
to make up
for the coknowing guilt, I think I asked for this, and chuckle.
These heroes, adrenaline addicts, I betcha, some oxyto-cync
objective being my survival, my salvation, eudaimonia
as it is religiously themed, Rescue from Chaotic Real Life,
bound by,
set terminii
handshake protocol, in the air, 5G.
Real numbers and the laws of physics…
worth a thought, for what a thought’s worth.

Danger, stranger, entertained as a fear of dying,
well, I must say I know death has no lasting sting.

As a person, I am a mental construct of my self,
my emperical presence through out life, first round.
Self as ware.
In the flesh, whether in the spirit or not, objective,
understanding, you know? Comes with wisdom
but you have the role
of getting it, understanding,
with wisdom.
Easy as wu wei.
If I were to die, life would continue,
on trajectory, without my input.
-Meanwhile back in the emergency awareness…
A posteriori responces… this is Teusday.

Was there dread, holy terror?
No, nothing, sleep.
Living truth.
OH, no, what if the believers
in a grudge holding
war god,
met the Daysman called for
when Job back talked
through realiterality’s chain of command..
literatureality.
Right thinking.
Word.
Talking to Wisdom, the divine instituted first thing.
Thing as opposed to no thing, no thought, no idea.
Wisdom, knowledge
and understanding, these three are one, you know…

right? Who sets the definition, coarse or fine grained
reifity, what ifery, immortal musical chairs, take a seat.

I am in opposition to nothingness, being
imaginable as hell,
a prognosis level deeper than hate,
agape, jaw dropt.

I make peace opposing the lying dread,
eternal wrath of your master,
whom you were bred to serve, as bearer of the message.
i- the mathematically real number slam,
the peace past understanding, and say I am
aligned with the initial routine to load the library.

SUBMIT or be destroyed. Is-lam, lamentable bottom line.

Same Idea as articles of faith and divine rights of masters.
Trust and obey, fake the trust, we make you CEO.

Neither war nor greed nor exclusive right to pleasure,
are Truths formed by using evolved group think controls.
Readers.
Whatsoever any two of our kind, bind in covenant,
word use agreement,
shake on it, init after any reboot,
Three times
“stay with us, sir, …. sir,
KWHAMHO wow,
“You can hear me now.”

That

thought is good, minded manners, engrained responces,
Sir, yes, sir, as when fundamental churches invent

gifts of the spirit to poor blind faith ineffectuality, look…
evidence, wordwise in virtue of truth being so,
wisdom is a domain in existence at any point.,
so now’s good.

The gentle, peaceable response,
Turn the other cheek, accept
careless grace,
acknowledge your non causal inference,
all things work,
Thank God the idea,
everything, spirtual entirety in truth,
that is the message called good news
all at once,
to the very outmost edge
of all we may agree is real,
tangible, palpable peace of mind,

art, official, man made peace,
as once one like us in all our ways,
once made up right now,
no worries, mate, we all got here
with no manual,
so we agreed,
together,
make peace where nobody ever tried to…
if we are
to survive the trauma’s past…
as our story’s culture extended
as far as our grasp and reach allow,
in the physical universe, in truth,
in which we each live and breathe
and have our being,
in spirit and in truth, beyond dogma
and religated order from emergent times,
from axial ages, in six cardinal spins, enmeshed.

Engine to operator,
set peruse rate, cost
of minimal attention, familiarity, favorite things,

words, beautiful long idle words, vessles for sense,
senses being tunable with pleasure seeking, or
with pain aversion.

Horse whisperer, or horse master, neither breaks
the spirit of the horse that must perform at peak,
on demand,
at the smell
of the battle, the character some trust, winks,
true rest, compressed is trust, confidentially
living in peace with plenty enough to share.

Life ain’t easy
in any body’s flesh automaton, supremely
subjective light on introspection, shown on

subway walls and tenement halls, and in the
zoo, by an urban son of the Mitzvah,
in the changing times we morpht through,
simultaneously, lifelong muse
in a singer song sung and sung and sung,
brought into existance as a lifeline, orderly path
to the future from the mythological explanations
{history shows you and I crossing a bridge
over troubled water, may be like, a week ago?}
Was that you?
Seekers of holy secrets, come here, and find none,
so? Why.
Yes, nothing in the Kingdom of truth was done
in secret, the sacred is not secret, there is a way,
to take the self exam, to determine, eh, set terminii,
worth of a week at the end, hanging with friends.

Where is the bridge too far, now?
High holy liturgical don’t tell the goyim…
hide the missing box behind the myth,
used to hide the wisdom inherrent
in our conjoined agreement to love each the other,
and take no offense, as brother to brother,
– post analysis, make believe, what is harder:
– war or death? RIP original intent clause.

ah, no, the contestant concept, usefulness test,
all accidental until order is imposed,
as under one aim, as one mind we agree,
to the ******* true filial love demands,
many men love the lie they lived this long under,

how does truth measure rest,
once pressure release valve, pops,
click- flashback same timeline… *** on orders,
FTA when I was 68, I asked the truth itself to tell me,
all the lies I believed about it, and in truth,
by virtue of believing Jesus more than the Bible,

I agreed to study war no more, and lay down
my sword and shield and morph into a peacemaker,

as when we slip into Morpheus’s peaceable gentle…
— I can’t hear your vain repetition

but all the reasons war has instituted,
for it’s just-if-ication,
what if the enemy,
is-
real as Walt Kelly’s Prophecy, Earth Day One-
us, our mediated tic-tok X news feed selection,
make us think the grownups are in charge,
trust your liege, go forth and tell no lie,
broadest river, shallowest stream
of wedom awe, the power we use
in agreemental covenants as when we all saw

everything said to have been class-if-I’d-agnosis,
gnosisnot. From unsneezed idea viruses.

This is Wednesday, Friday, last, I died.
Where’s this going. Peace or war?

Sneeze three times and post it, I said to

self gratify the grave issue of … I said so
Pick a winner, and go back to the first question.

Winning truth, choosing the role of wisdom,
in the social constructs we become, via consumer
character traits learned
from people
we identify with, using likeness
to me, average,
on the spectrum
of usefullness,
under weights and measure constraints, filters
for your disagreeing selfish nature, sorted
on beneficiation, what good can come from this?

One good mental laugh.
Noncarne, chilling raw
declassif-reactating prejudicial preconceptions,
experientially, magi-terminii.
set a value
the people’s prestige,
not the natives inside terminii
agreed to by the proprietor’s religious
privleged position as ordained liege lord.

- pretend I am not a free spirit thought
- truly enjoyable to experience, once more.
Yes, boss, I am a diligent, God-fearing man,
for I was taught any other kind has no worth
in the grand scheme of life and the universe,
standard 42 or optional 64,
wrong time thinking, dimensionally
accepted consensus in agreement for
prophetically time bound riddle reveals
with Hebrew cogitations on holding truth
within riddle
LORD, who shall abide in thy tabernacle?
who shall dwell in thy holy hill?
….

Conspicuous acts of kindness, Elon suggested
that Israel do. I agree, war is unreasonable.
No ancient lie about hatred’s value for building
heros who regret having but one life,
to give for the story that is their country.

whatever i touch
turns into tragedy—
Midas wishes his hands
were made of mine.

i dare not touch
trees and their leaves—
their old age
will not matter
once i graze their skin.

i do wonder
if everything good
that comes are worthy
of my ruin—
they quickly turn
sour and ugly
once they,
finally,
rest their heads
on my lap
and i am left here,
once again,
picking up the scraps,
telling myself
nothing incredibly,
or inherently, bad
has happened yet.

but what if it comes?

what if the world
decides to put
the blame on me
and punish me
for simply being alive?

should i keep
crawling back
to life?

or should i
accept the fate
i have been given?

In the kitchen of fate, where recipes align,
There's a daughter of misfortune, a tale so intertwined.
Her father, luck's favored, with fortune at his side,
But she's taken her mother's grace as her guide.

Her mother, a tempest in life's stormy sea,
Taught her strength in adversity, resilience to be.
Though luck eluded her, in her eyes, you'd find,
A sparkle of hope, a spirit unconfined.

In the cauldron of challenges, the daughter found her way,
With a pinch of her mother's spirit, she'd never sway.
She stirred in compassion, a generous measure,
Adding empathy and kindness, her greatest treasure.

From her father, she borrowed a dash of good fortune,
But she knew in her heart, it wouldn't be her cartoon.
She'd blend it with care, mix it with her might,
For her mother's tenacity, she'd always fight.

In the oven of life, she baked her own path,
With ingredients gathered from love's aftermath.
A pinch of her father's luck, a dash of her mother's grace,
She crafted her essence, her unique embrace.

And as she emerged, a creation divine,
A daughter of misfortune, in her, stars brightly shine.
She carried her legacy, a blend so pure,
A recipe of resilience, forever endure.

she may have claimed
that she could always
find one of those rare
desperately sought
four-leaf clovers
amongst any cluster
that had sprouted
amidst the grass
and **** growth
of park or pasture
but never once did she
try to find one
for me

A teaspoon of tincture, to the actual worth
of a Kuerig waste eventually, in return
for a breath.

How slow do we sink below our bouancy specs?

Sein- in my future plastic accountibility,
a form of artifact that shall signal affluence killed us all;
any way, same thought, nine ounces of our local kush…
ah, it has a weak genealogy, nothing fancy, no Joe Herrera,
but a hermaphroditical what the hell,
seems some years ago, down in Lemon Grove,
one branch, in our first legal garden, in three generations,
one branch,
we seemingly never noticed until John harvested,
and had like 200 seeds,
- at that house
not far from where the 9/11 crew stayed during flight school,
but about ten years later,
-------- bubble memory on all along
we had a crop of ****,
plain old garden variety seeds from a bag.
And as we eliminated all the males, we spied,
using our YouTube assist- what does this look like? Abnormal
or normal
are no longer first page words worthy choices,
norms are not known
to be essenstial,
esse, essense essence yes sense, in no wise
as evidence from this POV, mine, on loan, you can use it,
you can hold it,
as a thought,
what if,
we knew at once, words are not Lotech. Let us express,
that
once hindered
by those that let, let us let free.
Read, discover the realm of minds past normal,
long before Art Intuited a system
to inter connect tight
thinking, sieving contraptions
for sacred secrets, light
reveal, see the bunny in the cage,
prior to the hat, right.

Plain Truth, Garner Ted 'n'em, made some money selling
a home grown version of once pure good news, from a spring,

oh, nobody lives forever,
ain't that a relief?
Think a spell.
I meant to give you the recipe, but got to vegetating how
chthonic circumstances determine much of the luck, but

Nine or ten ounces of cured and cooked to peak, commercial
quality cannabis, from any garden in Free States, nowadays,
steeped in Arizona legal Everclear, 95% pure moonshine,
for around a year or so… seems to become stronger,
could be a brandy evaporation kinda thickening,  plot that.

In the course of a novel day, I did deliver the recipe. That is it,
the deed, indeed, does call for more knowing, however, I do.

So I read it, and figured I'd said it. Right enough to work.

Like a life cycle
Moving on again and again
 Seeing a movie life is a short cut
But there is always a but?
Riding a horse beautiful
Flowing hair chestnut

      But when?
Will life change/rearrange/emerge
Can we erase and start over to begin
Smart revenge or perfect win
We never know what will
be coming soon?
The full moon reckoning
The big happening
  Start living  
Falling in a category losing

No crying just loving
Keep trying wasting away dying     
No meddling/ Gifts of giving

Creating loving words
    In writing
  New Birth developing
      But when?
A star to wish upon
Pollution air rushing
Tornado destroying

But two people
Take the moment
True love-  hugging
Good stirring- resettling
But When?
Not everyone

  Will be welcoming
Words crash thundering
Everything has a sign
But when -Good luck
Entering
             baking
                         whisking
But when is the part seeking
In a flash of an eye we will be gone
           Blinking

Part of me says stay small, part go big
Part says eat your fill, part don’t pig

Kenko says: long life brings many shames
I say the gray sky brings winter, no blame

The impassable mountains we revere
Moderate the force of wind and water

Get the cement truck into the refrigerator
We shall honor all of life sooner or later

Anything can happen if you don’t resist
To get lucky you gotta be careful first

You discover dying’s much like living
Who should I thank for the pity of things?

O to have the smile of a lover
Who wouldn’t rather be elsewhere!

the old wives
say it must be
the left hind foot
of a rabbit
shot with a silver bullet
or not shot at all
simply captured
one way or another
ideally on the grave
of a criminal
the more wicked the person
the more potent the charm
with the foot harvested
while the poor creature
is still alive
it has to be done
in a cemetery
during the night
of a full
or new moon
though others say
it should be
a friday
a rainy friday
friday the thirteenth
if the foot is to become
one of those lucky ones

Nothing ever changes,
where the worth of this and that is set.

Tell'em all, who hook ah, ha, chiral

reality, hearing, hmms and bzzz meeee
whining all kinds of things,

down, dirt hertz low, as one of those
contrabassoons,
French bubinga wood,
-Google it, it is as magic may be yet,
magical contraptions contrived
in a mind,
in stages,
whistle phone, I ignor thee,
Lady, of Spain, I adore thee,

If I had chosen a differing way, some time ago,
decided I was made
to be a river kid,
but come to find out, we breed best, where
our mothers were born,
- high green vales
- home feel romantic, as such antics were
portrayed, more, more, more
in the bread and entertainment
citizenship bought
for thirty man years
of absolute loyalty
to a bevvy
of oaths
by
any child shaped for leadership, bonded
entered into the system, asked
to swear
in the name
of all that is holy, set apart, behind the curtain,

not in Oz, Jerusalem
in that mind Christ used,
right, Romans-
let this mind be
in you… word level logic magic any may imagine
we pluralize our individuated minds,
and join in seeking clear channel communication
- tear ye the dusty curtain -
after all the outs are in for the evening,
cool of the day,
spirit and truth,
wow
we
make breathing work, come to think about that,
if your will is telling us some thing we may think,

3 major sneezings 3 by 3's, gobsogreasygoferguts,
we survive,
having coughed up a tiny, eyelash-size hair,
meta vessle,
where my bet is in the bits on this side,
war
has no
lever see,
free is bein' out of bounds. We may consider Kerouac,
his teletype paper rolls that he could imagine
becoming my entire system
liquid crystal frame nets fishing
for sentient mindshare where global peace, accepts
string theory as
my gnosisnot, is it spirit if it is true. If we are paradox-
ical, we are not stupid as a species,

we've bought a bill of goods, they used to say,
we found reason to believe,
we were lied to
for a set of reasons.
- first being we all lie, we think we know.
The onto logical truth, in my case, is - in 2023,
my life is good, I am a slob, and out of the way,
so, settled in some ways, is dust fine, we flake away.

My choice is to consider the reader, who reads
for fun,
kicks
in text
be unaffordable - attention is commodity
in any other context,
some things
are words, mere, as a word,
is one of them,
a class of flavour overlooked missed,
mere [hap]
anon,
we turn the radio on, and all we hear is humms.