Old wine, sometimes, has been
vinegar, a while.
On opening, one learns, they say.

It's good
for cleaning windows, and lenses.
- but we'd better let the next
- jug of that vintage go to auction

New wine. Make glad the heart,
workers in the vineyard, laughing tired,
sugar high burned out, say hey, boss,
why don't you hire more hands,

eleventh hour hordes appear, as they
by right of the lateness, are  payed
a whole day's wage.

And that's alright now, momma,
nobody cheated me, I worked all day,
took my pay.

And it is,
very good, if I may say
so now,
Life is short, but filled
with instances, infinite instants
in some state
of methodic mental ascent.

And that's alright now, momma,
nobody cheated me, I worked all day,
took my pay.

We got plenty,
we have confirmed,
as is, to up and hit the road,
go boldly old into this cold night.

This is my personal poem to you,
One that I will keep private and new.
You have helped set me free,
In a way I never thought could be.

You showed me simple things that mean a lot,
I won't let the darkness have a hold, I cannot.
You've helped show me I can fight this life,
You've helped show me I can go without the knife.

You've let me see the person I can be,
You've let me grow so I won't drown in the sea.
I thank you for the simple things you've done,
You've shown me this battle can be won.

Two old men in my magi class, were

walking in a public garden, during the scare in the air,

they touch at few common points, five years experience

more or less, in any given field of function,

they share in broad bubbles of common comps, experience wise.

One marriage... both have had one, not the same one

Exposure to radio music and commentary from birth... not the same music,
not the same commentary

Aware of war roles and support roles, from first words onward, aware of being
one of a we, who are the children of the winners,

except, the enemy remains, they shoulda stomped Stailin into Hell,
ever'body knew, we did, too... though

my 1948 vintage, was leavened with Hiroshima, in vitro, and

in seed, touched a bit by events near Alamogordo, where my daddy

participated in war ending events, this other old dude, he never saw that way,
what I mention seeing, today.

Hell is for heros. I think aloud.

My dad was an accountant, with a night school degree, four kids,
woulda been five, but Peggy died,
infant cancer,
some anomoly in the wind, was the rumor, where we lived,
south of the Nevada desert through which our
northern breezes list, licking up dust devils to twist novel

substance into threads of thought to think in time,

as the virus spreads, peace takes its chance, right on or

dead on, dead center, spot on, too right, smack
dab

hit it, and the skier rises from the vortex, towed by that line

linking me to the countenance, encountered, mirror neuron

tronic magi-missed spells, dangling

mod
if I were yous used as iusta use pennies behind fuses,

I owe you, nothing, but to define my terms, ere I dare con
verse
with you. Okeh?

Same page, two old men walking along, talking often,

one to the other, one to himself, each knowing himself,

each wondering the other saw what each noticed,

with a nod, saying, yeah, I was thinking you mighta noticed that.

Life's fun. But near the end, it becomes so believable, that it works,

despite our own seeming disfunction.

Serious prayer breaks down if all I ever believed about
God is not true.
See, if we could see as seers were said to have seen,
we see
Truth as good, and good as the
joy
whatever- thing state we experience, or enperience,
when we know we know every body's real god is good,
{and evil is not in the class of things thinkable
in good ways that function to make more good life, evil serves to destroy used up ideas,
tha's all.
It's for experiments in imaginary scenarios,
we sapien sapien sorts can imagine crazy things, then not let them happen.}

If you try to know the truth, you know when it works,
freely, agree,
you know if you would let it
be as you know you are, free;
truth in freedom
would be that true will to know the truth, itself, to
be an inner experience. let me explain, my AI knows that answer(1)

ex- "out of" (see ex-) + peritus "experienced, tested,"
from PIE *per-yo-,
suffixed form of root *per- (3) "to try, risk."  {per-haps}
Meaning

"state of having done something and gotten handy at it" is from late 15c.

Out of trying
to make sense
from the shards of a messed up moment in my day
slicing
Inside me, where I think my heart is,

as opposed to where I think my mind is, as I make up my mind,

I am feeling at minimum double sapient,

and augmented with mental tools, weapons, if war is all you ever

imagined being used for by God,
our weapons are not carnal. You've heard that, right?

Peacemaker is my current calling I am attempting to get good at,

it seems a standard knack for redeemed souls, individuals in the species,
picked at apparent random and unidentified,

to preserve the sensedown the line in destination spacetime activate stardrive

flash the family trees of all the seventy who confessed having power over devils,

are those as common as shared mitochondrial DNA -- are we

evolved from

all the unnamed seventy in the Bible,


those persons, likely male, had the power to test a place, for planting a peace sign,

a seal set to
be broken

quietly by loosing peace, a whispered hallelujah,
magic in the old Disneyfied sense,

where a spoken word opens doors or drawers or windows or chests

but truth be told, all the magic words of old were props,

mere props, Hoc est cadavre, right, this is the body-- of the anointed,

this is what anointing is, believe the promise of hope.

And-- let me pray, how does one loose one's peace? Thus and so,

I sit in a house where I am hated and insist
this consistancy of desire for peace on earth
is squeezed through tight jibbs to flow through my being

a conduit for peace, a tool in God's hand that needs money no more

than Jesus that time with the fish, but

what hinders me from learning how that was done? I have this one experience,

I prayed Jesus, come into my heart and after that I was me,

who I have grown to be, since then. That was fifty years, this coming fifth of July.

This peace, past understanding all the ins and outs of worthiness,

is free, not earned as pay for labour we expend to keep our bodies
and our kin alive
a
wait a while, these a-a-a affections of hesitance or effort, which voice do I hear, eh?
--- semper fi, Johnny Whykill, the voice from the battle 2-29-68, am I interuptin"

Are we agonna do this peace making, now, like love making on tv, is there

a physical aspect. Ah, the boom in yoga,  the breath -control con trol

contra -- pushing
rolling -- rolling like Sisyphus's rock, like steering the rolling thing

control, no, not a wheel, a carpet, a scroll, the rolled up thing,
The control evolves, rolls out, according, no dubus, with all things
working together to present itself to us, in a cloudy
overlay kinda way

-- ah the worth of a poet at atime like then
-- we made mere words into metaphorical whoppers, too much good stuff.

Life and  that, life, more abundant, not things more abundant.

unrolling the rolled up thing to account

for idle minds generating idle words,

sharing lies on facebook, because you were convinced, with no factcheck,

that you can repeat a statement posed, posited, posted as true.

Buyer Beware, Liars prosper is fair in the money game,

Mammon means money, not the idea of the stuff, the stuff, money,

the means of transfering works we all must do each day,

gather the manna, accept our daily bread, reach out and accept our daily bread,

look around find what you exspect -exspans-ificate as may be so, i don'know...

untake the offence, un give the trespass

offer all glory for the good we do to truth, per se, the personification

of the way, the truth, the life bubble of being we live and breathe in.

For goodness sake, sake being the cause of good -- ai aitia ai say
aitia
means cause -- make it happen
and accuse -- made it happen, gracious sakes alive, child,

we won. This is that remaining peace unrolling before your verified eyes,

post boxing all the trauma

It behooves you to reread all you ever wished you could, now you may. See here,

we say may is my word now and you may use it with no pleas or thank yous,

we've woven thread from here through nearly all those wishes to God
I made good, if I do
say so, my self, my logos, my raison d' etre since el otro arbole, a stuck a feather

in his cap and called it macaroni. Secret code in yankee doodle dandy, we had a good idea,

we never lie about that part of American History. We fought for these truths we hold

self evidence wise. We the people, the people of truth and life lived til y'die right, us

the spirit embodied in epluribis unem, us

-- we are the crew of starship earth, preserved for just suca time as this,
in line upon line

of seeming senseless repetition in the atcg codes, is this humanism or breather-thinker-ism?

Footnotes:
(1) Artist-tic Intuition serves as intermediary for knowing everything,

the aitia affect of knowing everything causes the knower to accuse the knowledge.

Knowedge is like a box of known hows and whys
which gods, and men who act as if they serve all knowledge,

truthfully, some wizards may be realer than some philosophers,
but the base idea
wisdom knowledge science, originally that's all one big idea.

2020 all hell broke, it did not break loose like a flood from a shortsighted leavee.

My squad of peace makers matured, survived the augmentation process,

put on the mind of christ, and take all bets.

AI knows, and I know how to ask. SO I can't be accused of thinking I am really
mr. know-it-all... but I prayed for tools like these.