Jon Pear (a.k.a. NeuroAster)

Posts Tagged ‘autism’

10 Things I wish were true about me (Heather)

In sigma on April 21, 2010 at 10:27 pm

1. I saved a life.

2. I was unselfish 100% of the time.

3. I was skinnier.

4. I was healthier.

5. I was a billionaire.

6. I had the cure… for anything.

7. I had all the answers to all the questions.

8. I could fly just by flapping my arms.

9. I wasn’t honest all the time.

10. I changed the world just by being born.

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duplicate content

In sigma on January 23, 2010 at 10:56 am

One at a time, the individuals ask “Why are you strange?

Why do you make choices my friends and I would never make?”

I shall repeat myself until I have grown wrinkled with age

Nobody said everyone writes what you yourself would like

Yes, this is how I blog, and these are the keystrokes I type

Yes, I feel the way I happen to feel

Go teach another person how to be less of a creep

Someone else can learn your personal style

Someone who cares can learn your wisdom of how doing my own thing is wrong

This is a script I must enact on my own personal stage

One at a time, the individuals come with the same question, the same old harangue

One at a time, the individuals ask “Why are you strange?”

To my online-friend http://x.vu/Qoseen who loves trees

In my world on October 17, 2009 at 10:10 am

Trees, you stand strong through the deaths of whole generations of leaves

Trees, you stand strong in summer’s roast and winter’s chill

Trees, you flex buff, macho bark, and stand high and mighty as gods

Trees, you grope stars and clouds, and tower over all

Trees, you love birds; trees, you welcome nests, never charging them rent

Trees, you let squirrels run amok across your bark

You remain calm, cool, serene throughout winter’s wearisome frost

You do not rage against the ice, the cold, the dark

Trees, I long to feel your love and embrace of the universe

Trees, I yearn to share your courage and peace

Through the many trendy zeitgeists and eras of emptiness

Through the deaths of generations of leaves

aardsphere gesellschaft

In Uncategorized on September 14, 2009 at 1:07 am

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

dusk over corydon avenue

In my world on August 31, 2009 at 8:13 am

World of dudes and honeys, help yourselves to whatever’s left of me now

Every step is heavy, and every keystroke is fluff

Now, an ache of disillusioned anguish within continues to grow

I believed Authority’s hugs were gentle and safe

World of dudes and honeys, if you only knew your impact on one innocent soul

Go away. Why are you even pretending to read this?

Go enjoy the system in the void; return to places like church, school, and the mall

Go enjoy all the commodities money can purchase

Somewhere, off in some distance verging on the fringe of the wedge’s thin edge

That’s where you’d find me, if you paused and cared long enough to look

Once or twice, a few strangers listen to my silence across a burnt bridge

Nobody notices my gnashed, abused tooth-enamel crack

Go enjoy witnessing the same routines and patterns forever

Go enjoy whatever daily life has become, all that we know

Life is one voluntary-motor-function after another

World of dudes and honeys, help yourselves to whatever’s left of me now

a piss on you

In alpha, my world, schmategory on March 22, 2009 at 1:35 pm

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

After years of blame and pressure

After years of self-denial

Anger cracks my tooth-enamel

Call this posted text “depressing”

Why the fxxk are YOU complaining?

Every day, the world is colder

Every person’s just a soldier

Now, I fear I can’t recover

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

just another Monday poem

In my world on March 2, 2009 at 3:02 pm

Walking from Marion Street to the Millennium Library and back

Daily routine of returning to the shelves and discovering a book

Living without the experiences others can recognize and share

Learning that nobody reads about the cares and concerns of the bizarre

Yeah, I’m still okay, for those of you who wonder how I am

Hard to entertain a readership addicted to the norm

Each day is a search for ways to entertain the easily-bored

Warm fuzzies are all that people want; whatever else is ignored

Leave me to live at a distance as remote and convenient as you like

Walking from Marion Street to the Millennium Library and back

this poem is just weird, okay?

In Uncategorized on September 20, 2008 at 1:33 am

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

This poem can has PharmaBurger or whatever

In Uncategorized on September 1, 2008 at 8:51 am

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

Go back2sleep

In Uncategorized on August 11, 2008 at 11:35 am

Help wanted, dead or alive; construction ahead

Rise, shine, and blossom for all you dream of inside

Flare up, and glow like a fireplace; beam like the sun

Fxxk shxt from enemies, friends, and strangers in pain

Rays of light and thought zip through the eyes of needles and hurricanes

Days and nights are gone; Time’s Chronojectile zooms with a ruthlessness

Choosers beg for big, fat gains, and lose their spirituality

Songs can open mouths; live life with no casino or lottery

Trailer-saints are starved by the greed of mansion-trash

Trailer-saints are people, whom snobs will never touch

Welfare-churches crumble within the market-state

Still, you must be strong, and endure the reign of shxt

No prayers or baptisms quench the thirst of the globe

Souls lost and found in the void continue to throb

This hiring-project is still in processing mode

Help wanted, dead or alive; construction ahead

Originally posted August 7, 2007 at http://ca.360.yahoo.com/neuroaster

In schmategory on February 21, 2008 at 11:23 am

Pencil’s brittle graphite wire is a wetware_treeware interface

Homework from the muse the rest of my life and metasapience

Eyes to see and ears to hear and immunity from pharisees

Free in spite of endless cognitive dissonance to harmonize

Still a perfectionist after all these years

Ever refined by the inner_critic’s fires

Dazzled and swayed by the muse’s wild desires

Paradigm_shape_shifting in and out of snares

Vex experts and never applaud demigods

Stand proud with pariahs and kind ganymedes

Document the human spirit’s resilient shameless radiance

Pencil’s brittle graphite wire is a wetware_treeware interface

Neurobigotry’s Absolutist Zealous Intolerance

In schmategory on January 29, 2008 at 8:38 pm

You are the apple, I am the orange

You are the warning, I am the courage

You are the normal weirdophobe critic

I am the softly harmless eccentric

What do your good-intentions accomplish?

How is your fear a strength or advantage?

You are the vandal, I am the damage

You are the apple, I am the orange

this is a poem, you dumbass

In schmategory on January 28, 2008 at 12:44 am

Why do we humans bother having a point or making any sense?

Why do we humans have criteria, norms, agendas, rules, and plans?

Most perverse kinks in all the universe never have a valid case

Why do we humans have to need a coherence-myth amid the mess?

Thumbs and fingers weave derivative kitsch and trains-of thought blend wonders

Sculpted clay and oil-on-canvas are childish toys of old-age madness

Taste and see the loudest-amplitude nostril-stinks of each brief decade

Now could be the nanosecond before the planet Earth goes rancid

Lick tongues, confess your climaxes with candid, blunt songs

Swim through the neurogalaxies where comets cut strings

Wipe the bums of meritocracy’s elect until death

Love every neurotypical and freak throughout growth

Arguments throughout The Blogosphere bloom with counterpoint

Cyberspace is where graffiti becomes a sacrament

Winnipeg is still my favorite municipality

Even the Provencher Bridge has an air of majesty

We eccentrics are tired of dark, blank zeitgeists that are all the same

Let our lenses refract the light, love enemies and hate their harm

Yes, our teleomazes change each journey where we intersect

We exist and become the real truth nobody can just accept

Let’s endure vivid dreams in the name of the mouth who sings our fate

Metaverbed metanouns are gifts for the mouth who doesn’t bite

We are all one and we, the universe, enact the tranceful dance

Why do we humans bother having a point or making any sense?

π ≈ 3 . 1 4 1 5 9 2 6 5 3 5 8 9 7 9 . . .

In Uncategorized on January 21, 2008 at 7:09 am

What do you microcosm-dwellers want now?

Comfort-zones shelter you from any clear view

We supplied all of the demands you made blind

Go enjoy everything your fingers fine-tuned

Drink every over-marketed and synthetically-concocted hype-juice

Go stew in cult-indoctrinated perceptions of your gains as grave loss

Preach all the Churchianity you can liturgize, and share your bad breath

Go fail to learn how everything is informative in terms of real truth

Let legitimate dialogue culminate

Let us cultivate ways to conciliate

Interpersonal rhythms and counterpoint

Let a synchronization be imminent

Any unknown quantity can have a spectacular aura on a distinguished road

All of your mind-viruses are munching on all the perceptiveness that you ever had

Theodivine angels, with their halos and wings and polyphony, are proclaiming joy

Earth is our home orbiting the sun, and we focus on everything that is plain and dry

Let me die a death more meaningful than all of your farts in my general direction

Let me die a death more meaningful than misunderstandings and confusion

Let me die a death more meaningful than purchases and retail

Let me die a death more meaningful than worshipping Mammon and the devil

Life is lonely ahead of the curve

Friends forsake you for having the nerve

Kindred-spirits are friends who remain

Tribulations can thicken our skin

Stress is a jalapeno-pepper on the soul’s tongue

Whether or not it bears repeating that we live “wrong”

Weirdophobes, you who micromanage the entire world

You who demand to have an impact, and to feel good

You have no afterthoughts, or even one clue

What do you microcosm-dwellers want now?

Honey Deal, where in brain-space are we now?

In Uncategorized on January 17, 2008 at 11:43 pm

Ebony is the darkest room where strict, opaque walls block light

Autism is a harmless co-existence all closed-minds hate

Medicine and abuse are demonizers so stealth, smooth, real

Ivory is an intervention’s halo, none hear pain’s call

Raw nerves curve all our lines of interpersonal-counterpoint

Snobs dirge through life in morbid fear of any embarrassment

No shame goes well with ways of being perfectly innocent

Learn real truth first before you take us out of our element

Writing with an Asperger Brain each day comforts me in a clueless world

Comforts me in a culture where clawed, fanged mind-viruses are adored and bred

Living by a sociotype’s blind rules, gradually adapting more

Gradually adapting to real truth, still gradually surviving care

Faith in cozy-abundance is more core-based than religion or nation

Human-nature is feces our bums crap onto the human-condition

I believe that humanity’s NOT all perfect, but more than disciples

Churchianity pisses on old Charles Darwin while skyscrapers crumble

Slept on the pillow under sheets and blankets and had a dream in the night

Coffee became the blood of Christ and doughnuts became the body of Christ

Sociotypes forget that songs and rituals make the sociotype

That is the true malaise of post-industrial geo-realms of the globe

Educate and inform the planet’s wetware: We’re weird, NOT ill

Educate and inform the planet’s wetware: We’re just not cool

Educate in the hope for better futures, more health, less hate

Ebony is the darkest room where strict, opaque walls block light

functioning high pressure w/ low input

In Uncategorized on January 15, 2008 at 10:28 pm

All your chicken-soup for the brain has been soul-candy all this time

Grant me inconvenience, allow me to NOT care what minds assume

Sheltered reputations incriminate pure, harmless, gentle saints

Give us euthanasia if we must forgo basic human rights

Positive-attitudes are NOT solutions, negative-attitudes are NOT the only problems

Ignorant-optimists perceive proactive-foresight as rudeness, and alarms as grouchy-tantrums

Life in an atmosphere of sugar-coated-planets is the curse of keen-observers

All your pearls-of-wisdom are avoided like biohazards, futile forever

Faith in being a better human than your fellow human

Leaves your wetware convinced the planet is immersed in vermin

Why does anyone bother trying to enlighten wetware?

We are products of evolution, so we hunt and gather

Comfort-zones are the building-blocks of each and every status-quo

Interpersonal-conflict takes effect whenever change is due

No one’s paradigms shift when gridlock raises questions no one’s asked

People live in an altruistic-dream until they feel attacked

January 16th, the third Wednesday in 2008

Asperger is a wacky, weird way that my brain’s wiring is set

Everything in the world is yours, all you can use, all you can eat

Everything you could die without isn’t enough, nor does it count

What have you become for ideals that the whole world could thrive without?

Make your pact with the raising of snobs’ nostrils, bow to each elite

What possessed my Mother to welcome your own sperm inside her womb?

All your chicken-soup for the brain has been soul-candy all this time

It’s my entry and I’ll rant if I want to

In Uncategorized on October 27, 2007 at 12:12 am

Hail vaccine mercury, full of grace, cleanse away all diversity_punishing neural_networks now

Disinfect cultural tastes and hates, toxic high_standards, deadlines, demands, and controlling points of view

Burn us pure, like a refiner’s fire, burn away preconceptions, formalities, all our sick prestige

Souls that wear cognitive_bias_masks ; every mask hides a jigsaw_gestalt of a jumbled, pale pastiche

Weirdophobes are crippled minds, set, rigid, and absolutist, all that ruins us

Codified corrections kill free_spirited open_minds with focused ruthlessness

Mercury in needles, save souls, rescue the world from being neurotypical

Autism without a quote “cure” unquote is like a fish without a bicycle