just an update

Those of you who ask, please know that yes, I am okay

Tolerating life’s butt-end by living day to day

Living in a iron-fist-minded world of gain and loss

Sharing with my spouse true love, surviving every curse

Silence is not necessarily a red alert

Sanity’s down-time is healthy in a world of clout

Difficult events take place; we slowly find our way

Those of you who ask, please know that yes, I am okay

another December in Winnipeg

Now, a bus stop to wait beside is a final refuge

Now, a long winter seems to serve as a test of courage

I was “Jon Pear” before, but now I am NeuroAster

I am loved, blamed, and valued more by the pawns of wonder

Valued and loved by those who preach church-hype

Waiting beside a silent, cold bus stop

Busses delayed by ice and snow, held back

Schedules are nonsense; let the sky turn dark

Life is a bus stop where broken souls wait for the Death Bus to come

Nothing was planned; each of us has grown out of a joined egg and sperm

Letting the sky darken black as deep space is a sane, healthy peace

Wallets that puke dollar-bills and coins fail to address modern tears

Moment after moment, and event after event

Zeitgeist after zeitgeist has become ancient and short

Difference-makers everywhere demand movers to shove

Only rootless membots can survive everyone’s drive

Frostbite scars human-flesh like fire or corrosive acid

Let the wind fail to pierce the walls of our own apartment

Salvage each precious, rich, and tangibly real advantage

Now, a bus stop to wait beside is a final refuge

anthropomorphic

Full moon, gazing down on Winnipeg tonight

Pure sphere, high, aloof, objective, and remote

Proud brat loves her privileged spotlight from the sun

Still mute, never known to lecture, or complain

Better off out in orbit than mired in the Earth’s urban sprawl

Better off out in order than mired in the stressed human hell

Stay put, far from growth, technology, and shxt

Full moon, gazing down on Winnipeg tonight

transprehensive arithmordinate

One-hundred-percent of the universes all around the world

All peoples’ reality-versions, and the ways our spheres collide

Mass noise, and scrambled counterpoint of question-marks and stares

More failed communication on a web the planet shares

Cyberspace is where mouse-clicks are mass-transit quantum-leaps across time-zones

Messages at enhanced speeds, before wetware figures out what each text means

All open public dialogue is naked, word for word

One-hundred-percent of the universes all around the world

another weather report

Snowflakes float gently downward, and slowly paint Winnipeg white

Now, we wear boots and coats, and we miss July, August, and sweat

Yes, we knew this would happen, and every year, people survive

We persist; we prepare for the months ahead, stoic and brave

Armed with scarves, earmuffs, and thick thermal socks

Let us now tackle the fierce freezing winds

Pavement-gray sky, we wait for the sun to come back with the heat

Snowflakes float gently downward, and slowly paint Winnipeg white