Jon Pear (a.k.a. NeuroAster)

Posts Tagged ‘neurodiversity’

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

Advertisements

above the ultragogue

In schmategory on April 6, 2009 at 2:26 am

Some of us experience Feeling X, even if you yourselves do not

Some of us experience Feeling X, even if you cannot relate

Someone paid attention, but no one shared the pain inside

World of dudes and honeys, you make the spirit’s journey hard

Please feel free to stare; it’s only natural to stare

Please don’t panic; I am not an entity to fear

Let me fail to answer your stupid questions in peace

I am not your servant, and you were never my boss

Draw your own conclusions, make your decisions, and keep your distance

No one’s gonna stop you; no one approves or condemns your choices

Certainly not the bites of food I chew and swallow, or the breaths of air I take

Whether or not I co-exist is immaterial, or so I’d like to think

Whether you’re having a good or bad day, I hardly give a shxt

Some of us experience Feeling X, even if you yourselves do not

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

short poem

In Uncategorized on October 30, 2008 at 3:30 pm

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

this poem is a kick in the 66

In schmategory on October 14, 2008 at 6:30 am

Stare for a moment, shrug, ignore, and forget

Purchase your fries and burgers; rest and exist

Follow the Monday-morning oozing routine

Cog in the big machine of agony’s groan

Sacred rubies-of-information fall in the ideodumpster of boredom

Briefly stare at a text, and then ignore and forget it; conform in a system

Macaroni and cheese is on a plate on a table with pencil and paper

There are people who know and care that I’m a survivor who tries to recover

Any voice in any wilderness can become another’s voice

Life’s quintessential moments dissolve a sense of dark loss

Set in the west, and take a deep breath before you go to your grave

Breathe deep; an open window has always been a real salve

Love the air, each and every molecule

All the sane minds are closed and cynical

I’m a text-whore for all the literate

Read me now; tell me I’m articulate

All that is left is some posterity’s hope

Go and believe that urgent-vision is hype

Follow the script that broken-spirits accept

Stare for a moment, shrug, ignore, and forget

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

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

How dare you exist

In Uncategorized on April 20, 2008 at 9:56 pm

No redeeming qualities can save you now

Thankless time and energy is blamed on you

Now your sole-providers are about to crack

You transcend what anyone could ever take

Now you’ll pay for innocence you never chose

You’re an easy target, and a source of stress

Your existence challenges the status quo

No redeeming qualities can save you now

“You’re proud of WHAT ? ? ?”

In Uncategorized on April 13, 2008 at 6:26 pm

April is Autism Awareness Month

We are the targets of embarrassed wrath

We are a presence in the world around

Whether you fight us, or you’re just confused

This diagnosis is love’s oasis and hatred’s crisis

We live and die as eccentrics, punishing us is useless

We are uniqueness, we are breadth and depth

April is Autism Awareness Month

Red is the color of love and revolution

In schmategory on April 11, 2008 at 2:53 pm

Take the red pill

Answer truth’s call

Rise and wake up

Leave the dream-trap

Shout the real news

Tackle hate’s lies

Make machines fall

Take the red pill

This poem is a STRANGE behavior symptom

In schmategory on April 6, 2008 at 9:07 pm

Red roses and blue violets never reach the stars

Red roses and blue violets never cough or sneeze

Red roses and blue violets never read or write

Red roses and blue violets never fxxk or shxt

Red roses and blue violets never go to jail

Red roses and blue violets never frown or smile

Red roses and blue violets never share our cares

Red roses and blue violets never reach the stars

EAT BEHAVIOR SYMPTOMS, WEIRDOPHOBES ! ! !

In schmategory on March 20, 2008 at 9:38 pm

Let our tongues, lips, limbs, fingers and toes

Move in all safe, wild, possible ways

Move in all safe ways, harmless and free

Move in ways Christ-like-people enjoy

Join the path of least-destructiveness

Join the path of wacky-innocence

Let the snobs go live life by the rules

Free our tongues, lips, limbs, fingers and toes

So the condom broke . . .

In schmategory on March 10, 2008 at 9:20 pm

Doctor Lutum and Madam Domus appear in Winnipeg still

Driving metal and glass on tires, and remaining publicly cool

All our windows and mirrors broke us, the rubber rolls them along

Creeping up to my steps on solitude’s pavement, where I belong

Proud shame oozes down the septic-tank of the heart

They’ve done quite enough, they’ve kept their halos intact

Now I’m taking forever just to renew, recover, and heal

Doctor Lutum and Madam Domus appear in Winnipeg still

?????

In schmategory on March 3, 2008 at 9:18 am

Some readers may appreciate this text more than others

Feel free to hate this text or assume this text is “worthless”

No reader has to like or observe each observation

This text is just my therapy, I heal, that’s my mission

Chit-chat is NOT my purpose, desire, need, strength, or talent

Strange brains exist, believe it or not, quirks ARE important

What traits will we, as humans, preserve through coming futures?

Some readers may appreciate this text more than others

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?

My e-mail address is neuroaster@gmail.com

In alpha on January 22, 2008 at 10:11 am

Please feel free to hack and cyberstalk me all that you want

My faith kept the “only human” sane and now I am spent

Just blame all who fail to fit your definition of “health”

Real truth fails to teach the world the wisdom needed for growth

Enter the introspective realm of soul’s-autumn, here, now

Listen to all you want to hear or kiss youth you once knew

Winnipeg bites my skin with hungry wind-chill at this time

Typing at this computer now, I feel autumn’s dream-calm

Healed minds learn to just kiss the entire universe

Trudge through trials and sing sighs of inhaled ambience

I have an Asperger Brain in my cranium

Born in the death of the second millennium

Wetware is the truth within human skulls, wetware is what we are

Asperger within my skull doesn’t bite, nor does it need a cure

Readers are confused, I’ve made peace with how often I’m misconstrued

Making you aware that we do exist heals me, and makes me proud

Life is never a short-cut through the scenic-route of perspective

Yes I breathe with a pulse here, yes I’m still awake and proactive

I’m affirming denied real truth and raising public awareness

I am married and gay, not here to “cam” or court any “honeys”

Choose thoughts, think the thoughts you choose to think, and believe the beliefs you need to believe

Let’s make peace with all we see and hear in eachother’s ways to survive

That won’t happen now within my lifetime, and making a difference is my only intent

Please feel free to hack and cyberstalk me all that you want