It is the open arms that we long for;
the bright lighting up of the eyes when we enter the room.
An old man can deny it, but the 5-year-old within still knows.
We want to be welcomed like a sunflower field,
or the sweet voice of a grandmother at the door.
The need to truly belong is a force in itself.
You see everything in life has an impact;
the power of love and the compulsion of hurt.
The open doors and the slammed ones,
the last words spoken and the welcoming's,
our heart never forgets them.
You were too weary for open arms,
and too hurt to truly shine.
Truths an old man can discern,
but a child
can only feel lost in the darkness of it all.
For it is the open arms that we long for;
the bright lighting up of the eyes when we enter the room.
An old man can deny it, but the 5-year-old within me still knows.

You will meet
people
in life who
love to keep score.
"I've done this for you, so
you should do that for me."
They keep a mental ledger.
They're pathetic.
Nothing is ever done out of
the goodness of their heart.
Their mind clicks with
records and accounts.
They are slaves to the
almighty penny.
Nothing you do will
ever
count anyway.
You're always in
the red.

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…

Sometimes, very rarely,
if you are lucky,
you might meet someone
out of nowhere—
who teaches you
to smile,
even when your heart
is heavy with pain
and your eyes
are filled with tears.

Memories are like clouds—

some are like the white fluffy ones

floating carelessly in the sky

bringing happiness and joy

putting a smile on the face

                    and

some are like the dark clouds

that stays, bringing with them

thunder and lightning

causes pain in the heart

and bring tears to the eyes.