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…

from
On the Infinite Universe and Worlds
(DE L'INFINITO UNIVERSO ET MONDI)

by GIORDANO BRUNO
1548 – 17 February 1600
burned at the stake in Rome's Campo de' Fiori

THREE SONNETS

Passing alone to those realms
The object erst of thine exalted thought,
I would rise to infinity: then I would compass the skill
Of industries and arts equal to the objects.
There would I be reborn: there on high I would foster for thee
Thy fair offspring, now that at length cruel
Destiny hath run her whole course
Against the enterprise whereby I was wont to withdraw to thee.
Fly not from me, for I yearn for a nobler refuge
That I may rejoice in thee. And I shall have as guide
A god called blind by the unseeing.
May Heaven deliver thee, and every emanation
Of the great Architect be ever gracious unto thee:
But turn thou not to me unless thou art mine.

Escaped from the narrow murky prison
Where for so many years error held me straitly,
Here I leave the chain that bound me
And the shadow of my fiercely malicious foe
Who can force me no longer to the gloomy dusk of night.
For he who hath overcome the great Python
With whose blood he hath dyed the waters of the sea
Hath put to flight the Fury that pursued me.
To thee I turn, I soar, O my sustaining Voice;
I render thanks to thee, my Sun, my divine Light,
For thou hast summoned me from that horrible torture,
Thou hast led me to a goodlier tabernacle;
Thou hast brought healing to my bruised heart.

Thou art my delight and the warmth of my heart;
Thou makest me without fear of Fate or of Death;
Thou breakest the chains and bars
Whence few come forth free.
Seasons, years, months, days and hours --
The children and weapons of Time -- and that Court
Where neither steel nor treasure avail
Have secured me from the fury [of the foe].
Henceforth I spread confident wings to space;
I fear no barrier of crystal or of glass;
I cleave the heavens and soar to the infinite.
And while I rise from my own globe to others
And penetrate ever further through the eternal field,
That which others saw from afar, I leave far behind me