Ten Things You Never See

1. the wind

2. gravity

3. sound waves

4. infrared light

5. cloaking devices

6. albino unicorns

7. God holding a press conference

8. fine print written with invisible ink

9. phonetic alphabet soup

10. chocolate nanochips

oh hai i typd new werdz an stuff on mah blawg

January 4th, 2010 feels like life as usual

Rising from bed and turning off an alarm-clock

Morning with a cold, black sky and a tired search for new material

Taking a shower, grooming, taking a short walk

Long underwear, thick socks, my layers of clothing envelop

Bundled in a Winnipegger’s anti-frostbite-suit

Come home with a cleared mind for typing some text on a laptop

Blaudience, I’m here, and I am more or less alright

Time to consume some coffee and a bowl of Corn Flakes

Then I’ve got a pile of dishes to wash

Time for a morning-snuggle with my spouse, a nice kiss

Chat about some chicken-soup for our lunch

Somehow, we’re still surviving the stressed, crowded post-industrial world

It’s a miracle we’re still here, facing the dawn

Facing the punctuality-rush, Monday morning’s panic and speed

Monday, January 4th, 2010

Egg-sucking 101 for Dummies

1. Mindfully keep the egg a safe distance away from your teeth. It is easier than one might imagine to reflexively close one’s jaws together on the egg and break its shell.

2. Hold the egg between your thumb and forefinger, firmly enough to maintain a secure grip on it, but not tightly enough to break the shell.

3. There’s no shame in hard-boiling the egg before sucking it, making it a “safe egg” (No runny yolk mess if you do break the shell). Even professional egg-suckers use “safe eggs,” acknowledging that nobody is perfect, and even a professional might not be in top form during one particular session, and might end up breaking the shell. HOWEVER: Be sure to WAIT until the egg COOLS after boiling it, to avoid getting a bad burn on your lips or tongue, which are your body’s built-in sucking equipment!

4. Beginners should start with sucking the small end of the egg. When you have mastered the skill enough to hold the egg solely in your lips (“Look ma, no hands” so2speak), ONLY THEN will you have proven yourself worthy to start with the big end of the egg.

5. Know your eggs:

• U.S. Grade AA eggs have whites that are thick and firm; yolks that are high, round, and practically free from defects; and clean, unbroken shells. Grade AA and Grade A eggs are best for frying and poaching where appearance is important.
• U.S. Grade A eggs have characteristics of Grade AA eggs except that the whites are “reasonably” firm. This is the quality most often sold in stores.
• U.S. Grade B eggs have whites that may be thinner and yolks that may be wider and flatter than eggs of higher grades. The shells must be unbroken, but may show slight stains. This quality is seldom found in retail stores because they are usually used to make liquid, frozen, and dried egg products, as well as other egg-containing products (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/ )

As a beginner, you need to master using U.S Grade AA eggs first.

6. If you are eager to begin mastering the “egg and flow” trick (using the strength and dexterity of your lips to slide the egg slightly deeper into your mouth and then back out again, repeatedly), your ambition is commendable. HOWEVER: Start SLOWLY at first, and then GRADUALLY increase your speed. It takes time and patience to master this.

7. Always have numerous quantities of eggs at your disposal (the more the merrier), especially if you are a beginner.

8. Always keep your eggs refrigerated.

9. Have a daily scheduled time to practice your egg-sucking, and stick to it.

10. Have fun 🙂

pervasive developmental poem, not otherwise specified

in the epsilon quindrant

my lip, my lace, my meals with Magoo

a maggot in the machine

a swim in the magma with a major muggle

my shape, the shape of a magic demagogue

my mugs, my chin’s shaving cuts

my given gifts, my cow, and my government mocked

my maker, my cane, my call to the world

my cave, my cup of Coca-Cola in my cage

Muffy the Muffled Muffin-Mover is moved by our kiss

he pours ample amounts of maple syrup on the amber bums of Asians

no one has ever mapped your moves

my bare back is yours

take me while I’m dizzy in the darkest mist

missiles and messages pass us by, in the background masked by love

Mother Methane rants, her moods and methods never change

a rider who always takes the same redeeming roads

rename the runner across her Range Ranch

across the Armenian ramp

across the open distances between landmarks and points

reroute power from the deflector shield

in the epsilon quindrant

aardsphere gesellschaft

Let the writer quietly ignore the reader

Let the writer’s heart unknowably throb

Let the reader offer to become a savior

Let the writer fail to truly describe

Let the reader say the text is “depressing” and “negative”

Let the reader fail to share the writer’s ache

Let the reader tell the writer to “simply be positive”

Let the reader tell the writer not to speak

Let the reader piss and crap on the writer’s tortured soul

Let the reader fail to follow the writer’s search

Let the reader fail to listen and hear the muse’s call

Let the reader call the writer a bitchy grouch

Let the writer give up on the reader’s bland mind

Let the writer give up on having an impact

Let the writer give up on a dead and cold world

Let the writer live life as small as an insect

Let the two go divided, separate ways

Bound by hectic schedules, and devoid of wonder

Both can live lost within the modern maze

Let the writer quietly ignore the reader

still in one piece

Dangerously slippery ice on Winnipeg sidewalks

Moment when it rained and it froze, a treacherous nuisance

Ambulances rush to the scenes where bones have been broken

Winnipeggers awkwardly walk in terror, with caution

Each foot shall slide in due time

Safe just to stay inside home

Frictionless terrain is a bane that drives us to madness

Dangerously slippery ice on Winnipeg sidewalks

http://tinyurl.com/jordan29

You were the friend who gave me a haircut for free

You were the friend who leaned on my shoulder to cry

Now, you embody Thoughtless Authority’s fist

You have become Vindictiveness, Failure To Trust

I do not lie to a friend who cuts my hair and cries on my shoulder

That’s a rash slap on the face, but go ahead and call me a liar

All you can do is focus, command, and obey

You were the friend who gave me a haircut for free

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

short poem

In the eye-blink of a moment, mouths confess everything to you

 

And you’re now living to see this day occur horribly for you

 

And your scream echoes, and scares the world away, distances from you

 

And it’s all just for the human race to blame nuisances on you

another TGIF poem

There is no way to know how long you will wait; thanks for your patience

We are just human; we are pawns of a boss, part of a process

We have kids; we have spouses; there shall be food, clothing, and shelter

We are all sleep-deprived and racing the clock, dealing with pressure

After we have served you, have a nice life

Nobody is here to cause the world grief

Read the large text that’s posted up on the wall; didn’t you notice?

There is no way to know how long you will wait; thanks for your patience

poem for Blog Action Day 2008

(PREAMBLE: Special thanks to http://360.yahoo.com/dews24u who has just brought http://blogactionday.org/ to my attention)

Some unthinkable future shall come without affordable air to breathe

We are building a future on sand with individual-blame and myth

Urban-spirals are made of the growing cracks in pavement and skulls and glass

We are letting it happen, and feeling self-assured at a silent price

Full moon calls the spirit like some kind of visual-bell

Glares down over cities of starved stomachs ready to kill

Some invisible crack has begun to form from True Reality’s wrath

Some unthinkable future shall come without affordable air to breathe

the werbh in rhabdomanteia

Let the mouth of the universe eat your stomach for dessert

Close your eyes, and you slowly dissolve; the journey is complete

All the berries and bullets were closing chapters of a book

Let the beckoning beacon of light seduce you from the dark

All the thorns and predators’ fangs in the wrong directions

Fade behind you now, in the archives of lame diversions

Joints and muscles relax like the autumn leaves in their descent

Let the mouth of the universe eat your stomach for dessert

this poem is just weird, okay?

Let a person with half a cerebellum fail at all the success everyone knows

Let a person with half a cerebellum feel the urge to exist everyone needs

Let a person with half a cerebellum live ignoring the sick screams of the strong

Let a person with half a cerebellum speak a mixture of prose, babble, and slang

Enemies, friends, and strangers punish away the spirit

Anger and fear can only sadden and kill the different

Let a rebel with some genetic cause adapt in spite of the world’s Pharisee-rules

Let a person with half a cerebellum fail at all the success everyone know

CAUTION: this poem is scary stuff, not4kids

You, the master of power-control, you demand blood, gold, and silver for your strength

Youth is doomed in the name of your own crown and throne; iron-fists are flattened in your wrath

Kings and pawns can be crossing a new border; just draw some imaginary-line

Take the honor, and brag at the sky; gloat and stand smug; just be proud of your design

Stand over cultures like a great giant glutton over a banquet

Shout vocal thunder to the mob; enjoy your most definitive moment

Yakkety yak and blah blah and crazy talk into microphones

Making the sense a mouth makes in front of multiple multitudes

Sicken the human stomach; play the mass trick

Tension, alarm, and panic, make it all work

All of the constitution burns to smoked ash

All of your gains are losses; even friends clash

Once, you stood by a bucket, and held the handle of a mop

Gazing into an angel, the pelvic valley of her lap

Wear a costume; forget who you were; wear a pale clay mask of archetype and myth

You, the master of power-control, you demand blood, gold, and silver for your strength

The Top 10 Things That Happened Today

10. Electrons revolved around the nuclei of atoms.

 

9. Cells divided.

 

8. Palms and fingers turned steering wheels.

 

7. Leaves and raindrops fell.

 

6. The landlord got his money.

 

5. Legs and feet danced.

 

4. Mouths chewed and swallowed food.

 

3. Sound waves crossed distances over time.

 

2. Fish swam.

 

AND THE #1 THING THAT HAPPENED TODAY . . .

 

*

 

. . .

 

(drumroll)

 

. . .

 

*

 

1. I farted.

This poem can has PharmaBurger or whatever

Silent, cold, and empty, kiosks and vestibules remain silent, cold, and empty

Left behind, when meritocracy promises a free, equal realm of plenty

Freedom without wisdom is just a random walk on the dark side of boredom

Right here, right now, the dirge of servants has died, and become a doldrum

Give the confused a thinking-place, out of the way of narrow minds on the move

Enemies, friends, and strangers live life on the wedge’s edge ahead of the curve

Targets and gods are dollar-bills, wallets, and coins, and all commodities rot

Sweating, collapsing, drained of all energy now, whatever happens is right

This is a poem, you dumbass, now you live and die to make sense

This is a poem, you dumbass, all you fail to love is your loss

This is a poem, you dumbass, go away, and have a nice trip

This is a poem, you dumbass, all the shxt you fxxk is knee-deep

Citizens face another day to rise, rush, and circulate

Citizens face the stress that makes the mind hyperventilate

Citizens face another test of true durability

Citizens face another waste of life’s time and energy

Questions and answers are prescribed, handed down, and final

Everything matters when you watch ghettoes crack and crumble

Eyes of the dreamers can perceive gilded lilies clearly

Kiosks and vestibules remain silent, cold, and empty

Free headache available here :)

Is the word “heterological”, meaning “not applicable to itself,” a heterological word?

What would happen if an unstoppable force hit an immovable object?

Why is the night sky black if there is an infinity of stars?

Can a time traveler send himself information with no outside source?

If truth does not exist, does that mean that the statement “truth does not exist” is itself a truth, thereby proving itself incorrect?