Jon Pear (a.k.a. NeuroAster)

Posts Tagged ‘awareness’

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

Advertisements

subprime foreclosure

In alpha on October 7, 2008 at 9:20 pm

Call the state of the heart a quote “negative attitude” unquote

Thanks for saying that smiles are good; thanks for explaining the concept

Be the salt in the spirit’s wounds, cluelessly sheltered, and perfect

Call the state of the heart a quote “ negative attitude” unquote

Pencils and paper are friends without shoulders to cry on

Open, accepting, without advice, mindsets, or caution

Maybe the courage to write can survive the failures to answer every reader’s questions

Maybe the courage to write can survive, in spite of the inner-critic’s growth on steroids

Keep your distance, and have your own fun

Don’t expect me to watch or join in

Turn your back if I make your skin crawl

Kick a football, or shop at some mall

Make sense to hundreds of people; only confuse a few

Whole demographics will never learn what is real or true

Every bite, breath, and step you take for granted must be nice

You’re a team-player, saved by charm and cronies, not by grace

Drive your vehicle through Monday’s hectic traffic

Be an icon of pure photogenic magic

Call the state of the heart quote “depressing” unquote

Call the state of the heart a quote “negative attitude” unquote

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

thalidomide

In Uncategorized on August 13, 2008 at 5:49 am

Open my skull and stir-fry my brain and see if I care

Open my skull and stir-fry my brain and call it a cure

Open my skull and stir-fry my brain if it makes you happy

Open my skull and make changes, making me not-as-scary

Misunderstandings, hindsight, and apologies

Now until death, authorities are enemies

All of your inconvenience is disposable

Call me a brat, a robot, or an animal

What if every breath you took ruined someone else’s life?

What if every breath you took filled a thousand hearts with grief?

What if you were punished so hard for every breath you took,

You endured the impact each day of life, without a break?

“Limousine Jonathan” is all gone

Far from the property you now own

Serve your employers, and be well paid

Dream of utopia, and feel good

All of the dollar-bills and coins you touch are lifeless and cold

Enemies, friends, and strangers are vermin, crawling low in your world

All you observe is just a bland, vanilla, sedative bore

Open my skull and stir-fry my brain and see if I care

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?

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