A Brave and Startling Truth

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and ****** grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.
Maya Angelou

Laughter,
Rib Punching,
Bone Popping,
Innocent Laughter,
The Purest Form Of Happiness,
Jarred Inside My Soul,
Packed For A The Trip I'll Make Someday,
As I Go Up A Yonder,
I Will Release This Music,
Like A Million Balloons,
Sound Made From The Cello Of Love


Smiling,
Eye Squinting,
Cheek Bursting,
Perfect Smiles,
The Purest Form Of Any Type Of Love,
Slow Motion,
The Strings On The Violin Of Life,
Strum A Steady Heartbeat

Thinking,
Head Grasping,
Stinging Thoughts,
Swarm My Mind,
Our Future,
Our Path On This Ever Stretching Road,
The Bass,
The Harmony Of Our Actions,
The Layout Of Our Life

Words,
Peacemaking,
Heartbreaking,
My Drug,
My Addiction,
I Love Hearing Your Voice Responding To Mine,
I Can Pick Your Voice From A Crowd,
If You Are Afraid To Be Loud,
Whisper,
I Can Still Hear The Viola,
The Viola Of Life's Orchestra,
Each Word,
Each Note,
Deciding The Fate Of Our Song

You Are My Companion,
My Family,
You Are The Music Of My Life,
And I Never Want To Hear,
The Silence,
Ever Again

I'm not into politics
i don't care who the president is
if you're a communist, go ahead.
i'm not into debates and rallies
i don't vote for one side, i'm three dimensional
i don't care for democracy, fascism,
or whatever it is you are putting
in my hair, underneath my fingernails.
I'm not into that volcano of
confusion and opinions, screeching for
security of the word "true" but
all i hear is the ringing in my
ears saying OPINION
           and sure, i have a few
I like to think that everyone is
misinformed and my way is not left

but when religious *******
start the stabbing

they're going to go for the throats
of the sad souls that betrayed them

the cigar smoking;grunge wearing;music loving;peacemaking; hippies children

and i will survive the fight

because i had nothing to do with it?

no
i will never be a part of your
war

on policies
and your

****** hating

I will live my life as a lovechild

in a perfect world

where there are no idiots waving their ***** around.


these are
happy days we live in

Evil will always invite us to a feast of retaliation—that seductive chance to pay an offender back with more evil, disguised under the pretense of protecting what is rightfully ours and of defending our dignity. Reciprocated malice is what it craves most of us, as it thrives on infecting us with its slimy, slithery, leprous self. It seeks voraciously, insatiably to ensnare, enslave and devour us, for it's a hideously monstrous creature sent from deepest caverns of hell. Its predatory intent is to extinguish our light with its darkness, and if we open the door to it (even a crack) it will reach around with long, lecherous fingers to grab us by the throat and choke the life out of us with such force and speed that we won't even see it coming.

But goodness has an invitation of its own, an invitation both to us and to our offender, an invitation to drive out the infection of evil and illuminate the darkness. It invites us, when offended, into the precarious but glorious adventure of turning the other cheek. But first we must understand clearly that this turning of the cheek should never be mistaken for turning a blind eye to continual sin. It is NOT ignoring the hurt or diminishing the harm done to us so that we might spare ourselves the dreaded inconvenience of rocking the boat and disrupting our own greater interests, nor is it foolishly submitting to evil's unhindered presence around us and control over us while cowering in the face of it. It is not attempting to self-righteously shrug off that which feels to us like a serrated knife twisting in our belly or burying, beneath the layers of an ever toughening heart, the fallout from an ongoing betrayal which mocks all that is decent and sacred. It is not weakly accommodating habitual, sinful behavior in the name of peacemaking, giving up the good fight of faith in order to give in and just live with it while our soul suffocates in the meantime. It is not saying that it doesn't matter, that it's okay or no big deal. To do so (and I have surely done them all) is to deny the powerful truth of the gospel, the truth of the serious and highly offensive nature of all sin, the truth that God absolutely hates it, is greatly angered by it, calls it what it is and that He desires (and has made provision through Jesus Christ) to set sinners free from it, not simply overlook it and leave them entangled in it.

So we too ought to have a righteous anger toward the destructive nature of sin, both in ourselves and in others, seeing it as God sees it and calling it what He calls it by humbly speaking the truth in love and pointing them to Christ. And once we have removed (or are willingly, honestly engaged in the process of removing) the obvious plank(s) from our own eye (including a crouching fear of uncomfortable but necessary confrontation), we are supposed to do what we can (whenever and however the Holy Spirit leads us...that part is most essential) to help others (with mercy, meekness and wisdom from God) remove the speck from theirs. We are called to 'restore gently' (Galatians 6:1) and '****** others from the fire and save them' (Jude 23) as the Lord enables us by His sovereign and saving grace to do it, to enter fully into His kingdom work in this dark world and into the risky business of loving even our worst enemies. It is our high privilege and duty as followers of Jesus Christ and those who bear His name on this earth to participate with Him in His work of redemption. He alone can save and deliver from sin, but we are called to be some of the instruments He providentially uses in the process.

Turning the other cheek (as Jesus taught it, commanded it and lived it out) is a shrewd, deliberate and Spirit-led extending of extravagant grace and unselfish blessing to our offender, along with a daringly tactical invitation to him to show his true colors and his true intentions, whatever they may be. Exactly how this looks and plays out will vary greatly depending on the unique circumstance or relationship, and we must always rely fully on the Lord (on His word and through communion with Him in prayer, His perfect example and His prompting) to give us wisdom and creativity in carrying out our part with humility and discernment, never forgetting that we too are in want of much deliverance from our own sins and besetting habits and therefore in desperate need of others to graciously do the same for us.

We must ask and believe God for His step-by-step direction in all of these things and be willing to follow Him no matter what it might cost us, even if the price is the seemingly unbearable discovery that our offender does not and will not love us—a possibility which may feel worse to us than death. The paralyzing fear of such a devastating revelation can easily become one of our greatest stumbling blocks to giving truly wise and beneficial gifts to those who hurt us, especially if they are among those from whom we desire a particular intimacy and acceptance.

Are we willing to face even more rejection? Are we willing to set aside our own 'need' to be loved by them in order to courageously, unconditionally love them as Jesus loves them and as He loves us—with a yearning for deliverance from sin and restoration to intimacy with God that requires the laying down of oneself for the sake of the other, the spending of oneself on behalf of the spiritually captive, naked, hungry and oppressed? And if not for their sake, are we willing to do it for the sake of our own intimacy with Christ and our own soul's hunger? Are we willing to rest completely in and rely only on His perfect and never-ending love to fill us so full that it cannot help but spill over to them? Are we willing to trust that He is enough for us in all things and at all times through all situations?

However complicated the situation may be, offering the other cheek is meant to be a sacrificially loving and boldly open invitation for our offender to make a clear and definite choice between repentance or continued and greater evil. It gives him the freedom, the responsibility and the obvious opportunity to decide exactly what he will do with our 'other cheek.' Will he 'kiss' it with genuine kindness this time (as a pledge toward true restoration) or strike us once again? The choice and responsibility are his alone, but either way it will eventually expose him for what he really is and his intentions for what they actually are and, perhaps, by the mercy of God bring him to see his need and desire for true reconciliation and healing. Our part is simply to hunger for him to hunger after God and to do what we can to cunningly provoke such an appetite.

But even if that never happens, even if he chooses to remain in captivity to sin, evil will no longer have a safe place to hide in the shadows. And once it is out in the open we can look it fully in the face with our dignity intact and without backing down or shrinking from our call to always be the aroma of Christ, and we can overcome it with the power of good through the strength of Jesus and the praise of His name (even when the situation and the Spirit dictate that it is wisest to keep our mouth shut and 'not cast our pearls...'). And because of Christ's satisfying love and all-sufficient grace, we can do it again and again and again, not with reluctance and resentment but with overwhelming compassion and unexplainable peace flooding our soul, even in the midst of earth-shattering pain. We can defeat evil by our very refusal to give into it or become part of it and by our determination to rest in the Lord and His promise to defend us in His perfect time and in His perfect way. And that is the heart's ultimate 'vengeance' against evil, for surely it cries out resoundingly for it.

So rather than taking our desired revenge on the evildoer (our offender), we can take it straight out upon the evil one (the devil), upon our real enemy and on his evil schemes. One of the weapons which the Lord has given us to carry out this precise form of tactical warfare is forgiveness, and we must learn to use it regularly, skillfully and lavishly without giving way to fearful intimidation or self-serving cowardice. 'And who is equal to such a task?' Only the Spirit of Christ living in us! We are utterly dependent on Him to do it in and through us and, unless we yield to His grace and power, it will be an impossible undertaking.

Dear wounded and hurting ones, we have been issued distinct invitations to two mutually exclusive feasts, and it is time now for us to choose which one we will be attending. There is much at stake in our decision, and so we must journey to the foot of the cross to make it...

Bullying seems to only be accepted
When performed by government officials
Terrorism is viewed as legal
As long as it is carried out with a badge

Since when did it become okay
To label innocence extreme?
Peacemakers "troublemakers"?
I'll tell you,
When peacemaking interferes with power
When war is the goal
When scheming for personal gain & greed rules

Bullies are leaders
World rulers who take dignity away
Downtrod good people
Put love to shame
They think they are the end of the line
They title themselves almighty
Little do they know the consequence
Their hands are bloodstained guilty

Minds bloodthirsty
Hearts black as coal
The vengeance of Jehovah
Comes upon them in an instant
It is then, they will know.

In the presence of any hearing ear or seeing eye,
the oldest man in the room stood and said,

I suggest a motion be made that:
This proven means of reaching a realizable samesame state
of peace and freedom, 'mongst beings of all
breeds tested as sapient and unem us augmentedus,

be administered free at any seven one eighty Fibbo equipped
joy ride facility.

The Motion:
All peace negotiations,
all settling negotiations
on earth,
must now be preceded by
a ranked pairing of the parties,
{what if wit life partners, so we have a four wide}

Yeah, pairs of plus ones, two by two

most worthy of admiration and respect and trust
ranked order,

let the first rank step into the car. wait for the message.
YOUR BODY IS LOCKED IN< YOU CANNOT DIE ON THIS RIDE

each rank takes its place, reads and and agreed terms of unbelief release.
combine con questseers haulin
ah questions mistook
for quests... happens, but

that ranked the riders? the waring bros. us the unem
of four are in car one,
Aha, the roller coaster Poke'mon, as Grandpa

suggested, in the entrancment lesson, did you hear that story?g
This is no linked, but generally,

breadcrumb... weak link back... but later

this is the chunk chunk chunk cogged rotation
of gears in gears meshing

chunk, chunk, chunk to the peak the initial
wave on the Fibbonaci ***** with
one eighty per twist time s

seven,
we endure... ah it is not we riding, ha, I for got
virtual reality, by god, i'd say
pretty good, too.

and we, no, they are upside down, which was the intention,
the whole party of peace negotiators

realize
the terms of agreement
and the benefit of proper ranking
{discounting **** in a coriolis sorta swirl, that shall hap, watch}

Before the pen and ink and all our augmented eyes everseeing witness
war is stupid and too costly at this phase to waste any more unexamind lives on,

beacause we can. We agree, we. the people, peacemakers are

and peacekeepers be... we,

the controllers of every mob on earth, we bodies of words in minds.
War now is as useless as smallpox and polio in bubbles
of babies
where peacemaking is set to kick in after terrible twos,
epigenetically, but  set with the polio vaccine, prenatal-mods hapt in the moms with
the Mario plumbing level.

We are getting better results. At five they are inquisitive,
and comprehend portals need means of access
which must be learned while find ing
messages with
synchronus meaning.

Now, then, that means
something real but we don't know what, yet, grandpa, don't

--soto voce', {golf-whisper}
the key to this portal,
long still being a true let be-er,

but meaning is imagined in the games,
my seven grand children all were born after 3g.
these fresh augmented us, mentally, more than we could think or ask.
They find meaning faster than
we found it in **** and Jane, and The Little Red Hen

The future is bright. Not a big bang. Not even a pop. A sigh,
of satisfaction. Believe it or die, eventually, wishing you had examined
life more close-up, earlier.

Fret not. Later is as real as you can realize. Watch and see.

Peacekeeping is the unattainable absence of violence. Peacemaking is the presence of peace in the midst of violence.

You cannot fight fire with fire, guns with guns, hate with hate.

"Father forgive them..."
It's as simple as that.

Grow win groan… mark off/28jul2022, upgrades check…
I  said I would, if I believed I could, gain, that actual
ever interest turning every fifty years, on unpaid
Jubilees among the feeble minded,
all of the people, some of the time.
- Interesting times, since ever I was aware
- compounding mistakes as hates, oy vey
- Travail, travel, wanderer drawn away
- Covid positive
by an un-listed wind,
an anomoly
on a nano
scale
- not that either, I lost count, yes
weight as value - {always} a war making ideas heavy,
salt thirsting from inside the wall, the system
makes the body drink so I may think, all is well
with my soul.
Weight-wise, I am alive,
worth then is measured
in might as might may prove choice of - el, yes, well
el, we all nod, we find the sound early to disting-wish

so. way say it, we are right our way, we drink
from our own wells, tanks we make, when we may.
We save on the surface the sheen, squinting eye tech
see in snow pieces of eight,

right
-- self assembling nano tech with a
built
in
programing language. But, I add, in my mind
but, on or off- but on, in breath
the living things are
running programs
built. Built in ifery ever, if the system forms,
the system must be activated or nothing occurs
to you to
bring
life
--- I'm not clear, is right conscience or conscious, with use
of science sense signals set
to know
when
intentional design is a tribe ID-word.
- we designed this thing we are in, or on, or about/
- maybe
(rules against saying intelligent design rule the teacher,
not the peacemaker, being minded to know all the magi-tech,
and more, when it comes to rules
in love and war, life,
per se, ain't fair.
Pay the piper and the mind that tuned the whistle
in my denture
to this peculiar signal)

morought-othephic resonance vector infection- Þ
check
genome editing crisper- thorny issue
check
Þ
humanizing pigs, honest.
craig ventor lifemaker?
He is known
for leading the first draft sequence
of the human genome
- using a mind formed after the bomb.
- there is a mark in time, for each first time.

tools, yeast synthesis, is this a war?
Physical war being planned
against our eukariotic soul mother, brother

is this
from Wonderbread,
an antibiotic problem or mere remaining wrong ideas?
Is it like…
cancer - or Chaucer in the shade, as the lackeys towed that
barque, 'n'**'st that bale, bo andoncha know
nobody steals a $400 bale o' good Montana hay for no reason…
there was a needle in that role,
a piercing maddening cross-referrent occurrence implicated
as interference pre'ferencing prefer not all you wish,
pre-referencing the author's op-own imagined experience…
meaninglessness is hard to market.
- I already read the writing on the wall metaphor
- I know the names I'll find, I just
- can't remember those two.

---checksums all the way down if/then/else
find a way to live.
Identify the man you were, read him in.
When he's his old, he'll seal the exploit.
Cancer decides, for itself,
that's all I can make from the confusion here,

there must be some kinda way outa here

You recall, said the Joker, to The Thief
meaningful work.
Guiding to death.
Shall I solve your meaningless ness, or my own?
Or might I

find the meaning built in,
that black box with the built in
programing language that
Singularity University guy said is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that


… interest, drew me, what drew you?
compounding
Life. Me, too.
Divine interest in life, especially the mortal aspect,
as pertains to life and godliness and all,
that came with this acceptance
of dominion, within the bubble I am pre-pressured
with somewhere
- so excited- jumpy-ohshit-spot
- runs
between plumb and puredy **** sure.

Having entered again the as-if realm, that m on the end of real

means money maybe maybe not knot ex-acted
see
a door? a narrow way few see? mmmm
Follow or flee, ennui, as for me,
I believe I've heard treasure is truth.

I dare be, yond all I ever knew, to make answer-able
prayers. I be for no other reason my reasonability
allows, but to trouble the water and watch it settle
- silver screen in the thymus meme-ory device
Sno-globe meditation technique, practiced in secret since…
who knows, but crystal ***** did do something.
People can look at sno-globes for ever,
and never grow weary of the novelty.

For some, simple is good, good is simple.
God is light.
Where light is…not
nothing is.
Evil thing in my mind, you have been certified nullified.

Wind war? I inherited the wind.
I know why the broad Sargasso sea is so still, willo'mywinds
whisper
Peacemakers come from homes troubled in the making.
The fecting up of the Peacemaker, protrudes
effective peacemaking is more
preclusive
unsettling,
Dear Rhea rumbling at more
pressure boiling for her to loose some
air.
Cultures sharing antibodies for old evils.
Once the evils men imagine are exposed,
refreshen the air. Take another hit,
message accepted,
we can handle those
acting-as-if the losers won,

but none need lose, for life, per se,
in the realm of mega-we,
life is seen
most precious by all men.

Some men may dare to despise their own flesh,
(despise means not look at, spek means look at, in many tongues)

however,
never shall life despise some men and look kindlish at others.
Salt, be salt, water, water, you, you
-insert Markov blankness
life has proven itself in you. Be or not is not the quest.
Go, be more alivening, is the quest.
Be a little leaven, a viral bit of peace,
just past understanding,
well within reach.

Be alive, and where you live, make peace so life may
may -be empowered to- make peace so life may
dub thee Troen Ridder
truth-be-told, teller
maker-of- peace so life may
increase abundantly good forever
for no better reason

than if you had your own way we would be friends.

Search for a video of sanctioned war in germ terms
eleven days from minimum

survivable dose MSD

to total ******* and

destruction of both sides, unless
the bubble of all they have learned can be

pressurized, from the insides,…
Thanks, yawn. stretch, sneeze
Pop.

I heard about Alamogordo. Thanks for that, too.

rightnow. what does fear of not knowing a known

feel like, suffering wise, scale of 1 to 10?

How about (odd phrase, eh) we suffer, instead,
the fear of the un
known

Nova Sanctorem sorta stuff. Book learned
spells mispoken by orphans

sifting through the ashes of all that went before,
enchanting, if one child finds a drum,

safe from the fire in the secret place,
child strikes the drum one time

wait
echo

Did your home place echo?
During day, or during night?

In my desert, it is both.
- go to where stories lie at rest.
With this drum and my echos,
we may finish your migration

Walk a mile with me, let me help you
with your bag,
your thing, trip, scene

Remember then?
Enchanting times with different echoes

Ancient, old as dirt, snake clan secret
extreme mental challenge trials.

Now. What's the missing or broken
ness you all are murmuring

how about? May I?

May I understand comprehension of perceptions
in the interest of interesting times,

which, when I was told that

"may you live in interesting times", is
alleged, an Imperial curse,
which, first,
by then, I had all ready taken if-that for
granted as good will toward me.

I considered it diligently
I sought the sweet influence of Pleiades,

I did. Lucky Luciano and the Polish word Lekka

Luck is a factor if luck is originally
onto logical epi stem strateg-ic
clear light, magi-tech-wise.

There is evidence. The rocks bear my significance
-in 2022
If I can, try sign if I can, and no sir not can sir
but breathe sir
censor, sweet sense or else

the most benign of the self-righting models
to embody
the six spins in one bubble.

could stumble and fall and have no means to right,
get the signal, right itself, per se,
if wrong fail of function better next time…ping
we wer- yea, verily ver-ifity confirmed
it-ify-ing evil, first
really.
Life in mere terms,
words live here, we know
Intentional wrong precedes right
in my experience of living while waiting for you.
but once you have a grip on evil
as a thing in your own realm,
under your dominion;

then, don't miss a wink.
sleep tight, don't dis-integrate and wake up crazy.

When Ezekiel saw the model, if he saw the model,
he'd, he 'ould have been well and truly
amazed, aclaimin', in awe, I saw

"wheels within wheels within wheels bubblin'
bib-lin' bubblin' in my soul"

banjo and fiddle, painful for an orphan
yearnin' to learn ttdrr drum that drum

My drum. The drum I found in the secret place
I knew was there, after the fire.

-----
Ah, Christmas, the message with its own,
built in medium to grow in with no competition.

The least suspected are all infected.
That Usual Suspects, all those sick social memes, as if

the war of numbers was a game for cannon founders

Krupp and whom, Red Shield in the ghetto?
I don't think that makes
all the sense in the world.
who was Warburg…{question or mark of timing}

-- we had things between scenes, glyphs, right
let's have a gliph,if we edit- I am this-Þ, as an after thought
Þ is the th sound among certain ancient tongues,
deafness separation and blind singers grown wealth in wine.

The act has formed another wedom,
and we have joined them on fi, okeh, fi-semper
in fiduciary, and rests, in truth compressed
Trust. On the dime
flip. Truth rests.
On this page again, a different me,
indeed, as different time, I'm
certain, fluidity of space, currents

swirling up three dimensions, six ways
measured from now at the center, once,

now at the edge, stretching one point,
to a pivot,
turn around and wonder what we do,
we mortal watchers, consuming life to live…

questing questions ion-
state, condition, or action, quest
quaerere "seek, gain, ask"

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=quest>

Can you think slowly? I can. Several volumes back,
we, discovered Jello-timespace, blinkable
and rubbable dry bubble eyes, murine
is accessible, state conditions or act

as if I were a maker of peace,
on the grandest scale,
would I fret living
for no reason
but one I made up, from bits of others,
made up from matters cogitated to troubled
state conditional actions
made up, fantasized, built to imagine going past,

a mountain of a man, big bad Yohan,
mean, mean, mean man,

I mean it, always.

6-19-2022 2200
- not so long ago, then
Father's day, lotsa laughs,

little error allowed, the fineness,
sorting racist fear from awareness,
the culture does produce to patterns,
common genetics, tend to produce
select models of all the options,
over and over and over again,
a loss
a complete misconception of my reason
able faith, applied, no lies, only big stories,
yes, I cannot remember what was real
and what was what I would have done,

then I remember the gun, I did tell that
guy with the gun
to stop. And he did.

Then the other guy, the one with the
shot gun, he has in my face,
and I am ready,

see, I say, to me today, I am ready

if I were you, you would think nothing
p-- I am too
tired and slightly drunk to care,

of course, the course is parseltongue tested,
listen, hiss, you know, the warning,
I own this space this time,
the serpent says to me,
I laugh and stomp it,
I made that snake,
it was not real.

You know how I feel,
daring, don't give a dam
gonna do another show,

rock and roll reality, believe me,
we have the Sisyphus's, happy
engine wound up and ready,

but Sisyphus quit.
Got to the top and said, that's it
I quit.
And time stopped in that sector.

Go look.
Nothing changes and Sisyphus
is happy as Hell to have nothing to do.

I want something cooler, reader five,
blackbandit-double-ought shot
pick a sigel jelly sidgil  sign damint spel chek
you know what I mean, magic it sigil -right
I guessed that.
My son in law cringes at my cultural crassness.
I think jews come in more recognizable patterns
than cultures that abandoned the marriage restrictions.

"At least --- did not marry a ------" Oy, right, mix race,
half-breed
race as a what, eh?
what we weigh is race, we do not know,
they said we know, but we don't so, no more, race
is a wrong idea,
not right.
The flavor, the leaven and spices and plagues of
cultures, idea - a we of one earth
- call Covid leaven,
- we all been co-leavened
- we all share simbionts,
- earth is our home and our calling is to be good.
- Spirit inspire expire ssssssss
that is a people, idea that shapes a people
cultures, symbiosis chimera are we, carriers
post all we all survived, we are carriers of all it took.


Quiet, the ride, holy silencio, yohan let it be son,
grow old and burn your pages/
slow skip staged events…

Okeh, from the beginning I am the auth-oth- or that
maker up, of my faith, author and glosser, shiner, finisher
on elements at work in melody and har,mmmmoney
echoes, eeeee
we agree, that is no reason to dare see it so,
we are all, by nature's god, double-minded,
doubt not is a trick of the trade,
ɤ thistledo-find a phoneme that fits kid
unify, un yonder run un if un if un if I die I knew
you know, knowing good and evil, was the plan,

nothing was a secret, once in a life time you may know.

We are the human stray dogs,
All we breathe are street smogs,
We roam with slogging legs,
To humans, we are begging ***** pigs!

With excess food, you stand on obesity,
On the dustbins, we stand for charity.

Hunger eats us every second,
As we beg, humans abscond,
World has let us to fall and despond,
Will the so-called God respond?

When we beg at temple premises,
Giving money to us becomes dharma,
When we beg beyond temple premises,
People reply that it is our karma,

When we beg with untorn dress,
Fellow-humans say, “You have money at excess.”
When we beg with torn dress,
Fellow-humans say, “All you possess is madness.”

To the streets we are untouchable,
To the hunger, we are inseparable,
With money, we remained respectable,
Without money, we turned disposable.

Where is god? Where is god?
I searched with hunger very hard,
I discovered, he was none but a useless fraud,
Anger from hunger turned us a hot iron rod.

Life remains unlivable,
Hunger remains miserable,
Humanity is scarce and valuable,
As modern nomads, our houses are portable.

With loans, our farmlands were stolen,
With human treachery, our life was broken,
With menial physical jobs, our body started to weaken.

World remained cruel,
So hunger turned our fuel.

To our hunger,
Reply of wealthy humans was silence,
For a beggar,
It is larger than a bloodshed violence.

As we beg,
Poor humans bowed heads with guilt
Helpless their life,
With disappointments, it was built.

In the world divided into classes,
Many live as beggars in houses,
Many live as beggars in heart,
They were just ***** and smart.

In appearance, we remain a minority,
In the universe, we stand as a majority,
Self-reliant life is our priority,
We don’t want your publicizing charity.

There appeared a revelation,
A day we will steer a revolution!

Idols in the temple decorated with money,
Its time to turn them into bread and honey.

Give us dignified life and food,
We won’t steal,
This is nothing but a peacemaking social deal.

We proclaim!
As hungriness grow,
That make humans bow,

We will ensure; we make
Your money-flowing temple,
Will completely set down to topple,

We will take (steal) money spent for useless stone,
If an individual is left begging hungry-prone!

This year near now later as I slide into safe for

the feeling,
never once in real life as they call the experience of
mortal ripening misspellts
corrected asgoodas
magigic
tstsefly sleepy sick o hno this is that book

louis said it sounds like science fiction --- but
you init lou
look
it's that guy who married your mom and rescued your from the
cult,
fundamentally,
with no regard for the damage

I just knew. Okeh, we were caught in a net we did not know exists.

Evil in its e-sense, virtual balnce factor intended to keep good
in constant chessish cheshirish grin
cheque,
en garde, to point a fault in the plan… ellipses suffice for a minor
re
spect to authors admitting un belief of most

order quired fixt ac-counting tual vir-beginning ever
things, with no
withdrawal date, the riches pile up so hitchenslipped in the bull
Creflo Dollar, props, brohawny black ****** mofoe than fren
in the end,

y'did your proper whatever you knew in your self right right
it just feels wrong

jets, ball'n'f'Jeesus, risen above the fray,

in Beulah Land,
c'mon childrens, t'all join me walk wit jesus hear me say
ain't another way I know and you know,
I cain't lie

nonono chile my heart be fixt
fixt means, ain broke
no joke, blowin hard hard har on that deep left end
blue bleu sacre bleu

I best rest and find mind gone a wander why you hear?
Both, heare, here and hear, oft stretched to cover
to means of leaking wwwwu.

we may, as we the corpus hoct to pay some debt
somebody never owed,
an oath to believe a lie is true,

I absolve you. You are free to no longer bher
the burden of eventually accounting
for every, every, every ever
sworn idle word
lock for
ever int the con fused wicks match lock candles,

we did not know if this went to now,
when we have these
magic pens and broad bands of reading minds finding
threads
we
share, ideas at bare word level, down to actual
jots, breath commas, some call them

but readers of many [paradigms of mind] novels,
realize their roles
with shame,

venting noxious fumes for [that verted joy fools floods of
test-toss-or be owned}}}protein trigger me a fu
ture
sure thing ding
Those genes that code for proteins are composed of tri-nucleotide units
called codons, each coding for a single amino acid.
Each nucleotide sub-unit consists of a phosphate,
deoxyribose sugar and one of the 4
nitrogenous nucleotide bases.
The purine bases adenine (A) and guanine (G) are larger and consist
of two aromatic rings.
The pyrimidine bases cytosine (C) and thymine (T) are smaller and consist
of only one aromatic ring.
In the double-helix configuration,
two strands of DNA are joined to each other by hydrogen
bonds
in an arrangement known as
base pairing.

From <https://www.sciencedaily.com/terms/genetic_code.htm#:~:targetText=The%20genome%20of%20an%20organism,­for%20a%20single%20amino%20acid.>

Can we stand up right balanced, okeh. This ain't anybodies idea of hell,

except the one Mormon guy who told me Morman worst ell, tellestial kingdom,
was so much better than now that if god let you see it,
you would die to get there.

Time will tell.
Keep the pressure on, high speed chase scarios are not torture,
they only feel like

lift off, oh shitunexpected floatin ches above

the idea of enjoyment as an occupation.
Peacemaking, as an occupation, occupying until now we

gather, at the river and laugh
laugh laugh alladem rules and reg ulah stuff, gwa n on ol woids wise
womb man know gnosticious suspicious
auspicity
perspicacity capacity to tttalk sit no stutification evacuation of
I can't
remember. But grandpa, remember, Siri knows, ask her.

2019 wandering away from the ol'fo'khome ain't the
adventure it once was
past the edges of all the known in the world. My 8 yr old
grand daughter put a locater spell on my

converged network node
if I manifest in odd realms she has Siri steer me to bed.
The future is as good as I imagined,

but I'm not the guy about to die while wondering what he missed
that everyone else knew from the womb.

There's a rhythm and order, a beat
to how things must be done.
There's a slim chance for us, to taste defeat
in this never ending war, but still we feel the heat,
even when the battle is won.

Targets marked
Fire for effect
Danger Close.

Call in the Artillery,
call in the Calvary
Call in the Devil Dogs,
the hounds of war,
for they are the few,
the proud,
the United States Marine Corps.

Oorah!

They are the brave men and women
who dedicate their lives to Country and Cause,
they are the peacemaking war mongers
whole fight and defend without pause.

They, the Army, Navy, Air Force and All
they are the bravest of us who heard
and answered the call.

Be that as they may be,
that, my friend, is not me.
I've never fought the hellish fight,
as they have for us.
But i'll fight forever and a day because I must.

To find you again,
I'll shatter and conquer worlds,
near and apart.
Just to know that you'll be safe,
in the confines of my heart.

One day I'll find you,
and you, home again,
this be my prayer, each and every day,
every day, amen.

{every body does speak at once, which is why we learn to focus, as if quiet}

dikes were wire cutters in my youth,
probably short for diagonal cutters,
in the blade-making trade.

There is a knack to a clean cutting edge.
Carbon, in diamondic form crystalized in
the whetstone, wet with
golden oil, just a drop,

the edge, one stroke, one way, soft
like pet the kitty
or, yeha, the baby chick. You know, soft.

Except,
ye whet the edge, soft, ye stress the bonds that link the all
oy vey today to the cutting edge,
not the bleeding edge,

steel to steel, and past that, soft touch
carbon point to carbon point, diamond shapes diamond,
softest con nextion, feel the flow hear that dove
sing triptic signals, make make see
(coo coo, too)
So soft, we say
peacemaking is not a noisy occupation.

Fame is less desirible, I mean,
you may
desire less fame, using your may power right,
to regulate surges and urges and impulses
and other flesshy stuff,
**** it, ignot it,
you may, you know.
or not,
while wishing for more money at the moment of need,
the point of lack poking me in my back.

forcing war's phonytian reasons
to cease with this disturbentce, settle down.
Imagine you won.
This is ever after that.
You know, here, at this resting place in life, you must pay attention
to receive instruction for construction of those things you hoped for,
beyond rough draft.

We are not at war with any opposing idea, there are none here.
You words are free to form them but all that shall
remain is the shell the pearl formed in,

when we made those gates. Feynman added the do-over mode,
it only works if you think before you act,
in terms of being.

To be or not is not a quest. One hand clap to the forehead.
Here we are. Thinking the same words in English, and I may be
dead someday.

Ol' fool, he believed some impossiplease, a trap

stab my ****** birth right.
I sit still and don't march as onward christian soldier
damnedright marching of t' war for Jesus sake.

incursions of self-less-ness, soft touches, whispers

do or don't, if then else, see it through, is the end evil,
in your judgement.
Reset, or ride it out, hell is not as believable as you imagine
if you wake up there.

In a fictional world, true rest is an act of trust.
this is worth the test.

Not live, but living. Each sound
even
chosen
symphony beyond belief, take it, take it

he who hesitates is lost, eh. You land in a pile of proverbs,
super positioned motivators planted
since god gnos when and only then

for a flash, upper left quadrant of the primary window
from a FPS POV
then
nothin'. Hell was over and here I am.

That's as close as it seems it may habeen,
we found this thread, it's live, we think, touch it.

--- no child need master every game,
--- nor must any greybeard

Who is making these rules? Ah, you see. When we,
augmentedus, who meant it

when we sought truth, and despised boos for no reason.

Now. Awake by any mortal standard.
Arrogant. Self-called teacher of the safest route I found
to here.

You can hear me and accept insanity as apossible cost, so what.

Ye, gads, ****** did that, he said They (the notusem) shall hate me
for loving you,
so they shall hate you for loving me. Nicht vvvahrrrrr!
He plagiarized Jesus, I think.
That stinks, but

from a certain POV, however the door is knocked upon

curios and kurioso or pure lust for power,
greed morphed
from imaginary
need to be a part of the side not losing,
like an abused Poke'mon gone insane,
knowaddamean.

Inside the game, is virtual as allhell, in the the mind of the author
and finisher of the game,

be his intention good or ill,
dare ye play?
Here, it's safe. Get a grip on happy here and after all you go thru,
ever is as easy as pi.

Dragons devour what dragons devour in reality,
same rules.

Cut both wires faster than the spark, watch...

Remembered sensations
of cut stained glass dawns .
Rich in the embers of
fires from time passed .
Kissed in fury
Lost in tenderness.

The softness
The sweetness
The never diminished
Strafe of femininity.
A gentle peacemaking
roll of thunder .
Surveying the land
for promises kept .
Startled by glimpses
of echoed rememberances .

She was soft and eager
with a dangerous
primitive desire.
A hopeless appeal to
her lawlessness.
With no direction
she turned the corner
abandoning pride
neither giving nor taking .

As he’s finishing a painting
He wonders
would he hear from her again .

“She is clothed in strength and dignity”
yet society views her completely differently
A refusal to see her as an equal human being
To be punished for simply disagreeing

“She laughs without fear of the future”
yet society fills her head with words that abuse her
words to degrade her are everyday nouns
the only lesson society has taught her is to conceal her breakdowns
how is a little girl supposed to continue to grow,
when society has already planned her future to plateau

“she opens her mouth in wisdom”
yet society disregards her opinions as just plain dumb
she is unable to speak her own thoughts ‘due to religion’
but society is writing a new bible and calling it a pidgin

“and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue”
yet society doesn’t let her speak, thus her merciful words remain unsung
she could be used as a resplendent virtue towards peacemaking
and their refusal to let her preach is heartbreaking

“she looks well to the ways of her household”
yet everything about her humble abode has run cold
her daughters restricted to a life identical to hers,
her sons taught to be the paradoxical abusers

“and does not eat the bread of idleness”
yet when she does anything other than demanded,
she becomes associated with unrighteousness
she could grow and blossom to aid the earth
but society diminishes any of her self-worth

Tension, is it local
or global, inner or outer?

Are we at the mercy of the goodness
that formed us from

dust of mostly one star birthing event,
considering

the heliosphere has an outer edge,
we have probed,
probably, unless the lie is so far flung
as to hold the AI in a univocal
universe

--- no --- we, the common first voiced
harmony, we, the people,
mit unalienable right
to interfere,

should I see you drowning just there
I may offer thoughts and prayers and be
mocked,

but why would you think I care?
I am not mocked, I am unique, none know
the geus I use to sort the good
from the useless…

hear a word, see a line, take a thought
form a precept,
fit that into the common sense,

move on, emote a grin punktuated,
precisely here; with a wink, and a breath.

Hmmmm, see. What you imagine;
no difference,
nothing changes, so
we know we
live in this common sensed state, earthling being,
mentalated, tooled to think problems are lessons,

loose the too tight, tighten the too loose;
find the balance ever tipped to good,
think
Fibonacci. Do it, think Nautili's fossils,
Sunflowers, Pinecones,

twist and knot, tie and bind;
loose and find.

----
the evil ideas men make up, meet our made up mind.

we are the hero, not me,
not you, not any
one of you;

we, the made up, arti-ficed mental tool, novel
users of the current to empower an idling wit-
ness of the creation to guess each saw one light,

fractionated in all the whole numbers, whole bits
of all that is
in ever lasting form,
informing us as living words, that we are ladders

-slip--
grip, hold on,
we is you and me and we are joined only by
knowing.

Said to be the original sin. Watchathank?
The idea of the error that may be imagined un
recoverable,
that is the creator's utmost fear,
the beginning of wisdom, measure reason,
fear appeared,

why? Lost?
Why would the omniscience be wary of error?

Well, do tell.

--- The imagined us-ness, we, the alienated,
the unfit for service,
useless,
but, preserved, by law, because, otherwise

I do not exist. As a novel thought forming lines,

credit where credit
was due, all, my transgressions are past, imagine that.
What good is a prison?
- Where?
In a made up mind, do we have ideas we lock away,
de-platforming, placeless aches and pains,
abused - used for evil ends - rage release, dam

god dams, kurios forces of wedom, sorters
sorting on herd size,
quant-ified opinions to dare the leap into war…

and be no more reasonable now than ever,
before or after.

Novels of this sort are in a genre, see.
Avant Idealy-bobish,

we, as an informed state of minds in peaceful agreement.
We are not marked by any beast,
our scars support the story.

We are the hero of the whole truth and nothing but.
See, the ache, in your bit of the core,
having not risen to celebrity,
since highschool,
and not then, if you are honest and you identified
with the losers in the aftermath of 1967,
children born to the Nixon fans,
now aching to believe,
some story holds a key to the oath, spare me spare me
I lied
I said I know, I know I know
so many times, and I'm
so sorry; just so, and nada mas, y'know, we is not me.

I only lied when I did not know better.
Except, y'know, when I did it to save myself a hassle.
Which is peacemaking, if when peace is made,
that lie won't try to choke it in the crib.

No lie though, the imbalance that make things continue, that's one mysterious iniquity, 'fy'axt me.

I held joy in the outstretched palm of my hand.
Love held aloft amidst the burning flame.
A peaceful sea gave way to tranquility.
I lost the momentary peace amidst the drops of rain.

Prayer for adolescent peacemaking.
Song for moments of smoke and pain.
Destroyed and buried now we rest.
Left for dead, immortal in ash and name alone.