Metempsychosis

Monday, August 18, 2025
2:14 PM

Reincarnated ideas that ate our minds, imagine that

influx efluxuation considered, we, as thinkers, thoughts,
thinkers thought some while ago, we think, in spirit, in mind,

formed words, indexed in our own prodigious memories, logical
conclusions in a world of light and shade, both, essentially good,

in the Biblical knowledge, without which his people perish, good

for sure, being caused, fructifying on a tree covered under
the Christian clarification that a good tree cannot bear bad fruit,

tov ra', beautiful adverisity, as Strong's has the Hebrew
under the tree of knowledge of tov' ra, good and evil, KJV wise,

evil means bad, Naughty figs are over ripe and rotting, so it is.

The people among the captives, who were taken for their craft,
the smiths who knew the way of wind in fire, to form steel, ah
the carpenters, knew the way of levers, planes, wheels and cogs

recognize science consciously right used knowing, principle think,

you know, reckon, ye ken, yon and yet, knowing, principle thunk,

Wisdom is the fear of Jehovah-Jirah and all, some say,  
wisdom is the use of knowledge truly with no guiling, that is,
id est, i.e. per se, free
from added adjectives and qualifying catechism quiz results,
Jesus is Lord…

I know a guy who says lord came from Welsh, but
I got an old book what disagrees, Welsh for Lord is Arglwydd

I ask Gemini and accept that I knew more or less what I was getting at,

Saying in your core, truth is lord, requires definite precognition, gotten,
this idea, Your core process, you, being one told

to let this mind be
in you… mindhat wise, imagine, we think as one mind,
with a sorting side and a noticing side, and pattern recognition,
wakes up qwerty guy and we are with Bruno in the ether, here

it is, the mind of God, no inside, no outside, no need to disagree,

what a person is, at its core, who am I, what am I for, is arbitrary,
yeah, Shelly Berman, he told me, I am what I chose, arbitrarily,
I write,
I write like a monk reborn in a certain batch in 1948, ARPA kids,

arbitrary decisions were never part
of our context as A students, in grading school,
with a y for smiths and carpenters after eight D or above years,

graduates from Eighth grade, with me, met me in Bien Hoa, ARPA kids,
- both barely in my class, no shared classes after first grade

both dead now, both died within a mile of Route 66, hmm, hummin'
along wonder if what if did work that once, but, we escaped, got away,

whose memories are treasures,
whose are inescapable hells, just
waiting to be recognized, as one among our we,
guilty as sin, never made sense of as Hamartia y chatta
the few, the brave, the dedicated babes in the 1948 Revival,
Aieee and hohokahm jam Jesus a plenty out at the slabs, 2025

Repent or perish, try those spirits, axemwhachamean, perish?

Ego death, abrupt, sacred and undeniable, just say, come into

my core logic processor open for repair, just say no, or come on in.

Flow, autotelic for some time, core idea in intellect, lecture me later.
Mark paid.
Any debt owed to for or by any, or any redemption
Owed to Giordano Bruno, who went up in flames to inspire me,

is likely erased from history as you recall…

I dream of a world
where you're not raging  at me
or ridiculing me to your friends
    for simply  
    my just being me..

Where you're not  throwing me
under the bus  in order
to make things go your way.

There is a lodgepole pine,  
a stick of wood that you fancy
as a staff in front of the crowd

  But like every single one of them--
  it is only a prop  

  to keep you from  falling over..

Wordsmith-formed, your poetic
  carvings
into your staff,   only weaken it

And no one in your selected crowd
  has the courage
  or the substance

to tell you that  the drawn out  nature
of each creative word
only hastens the prop's break.
.  .  .

The weight of the brass,   polished
on your ship, sinking down

will break the mast  at its base..
to that place..  all the way,  down--
the place where you have   c a r v e d  

   your most
               finely

selected word.

ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE
Where every scene from every play
Ever written flows seamlessly into
Each other in no particular order

ALL THE WORLD'S A ****** MYSTERY  
Where everyone’s a probable suspect
Including  the investigating officers
Playwrights and audience
Yet we’re all sure we know whodunit

ALL THE WORLD'S A COMEDY OR STAND-UP ACT
Where everyone’s a dressed-down clown
Even the straight man and the cast and crew
And everyone plagiarizes the punch-lines

ALL THE WORLD'S A PASSION PLAY
Where everyone’s a martyr
Even the judge and executioners
And the messiah must be
A flavour of the week superstar

ALL THE WORLD'S A  SOAP OPERA OR CRIME DRAMA
Where the cast doesn’t realise
They aren't wearing any clothing
Even though they are seasoned
And respected award winning actors
And the show is being marketed as pornographic

ALL THE WORLD'S AN OFFICIAL DOCUMENTARY
Where everyone’s the subject
Director producer and crew
As long as the camera is rolling
And it’s rolling 24/7 !

ALL THE WORLD'S A REALITY SHOW
Where everyone’s a drama queen
Including the director producer and crew
And the camera is always rolling
Even when there’s no film in it
And the props and stage are constantly being
put-up and torn down all around them

ALL THE WORLD'S A COMEDY/DRAMA
Where nothing’s really that funny
And the edginess is trite and melodramatic
Like a cast of mimes in a Shakespearean play

ALL THE WORLD'S A GAME SHOW
Where everyone is the host
Including the audience
And there are no contestants
Only models on a flashy stage.