Archive for February, 2013

Are spiders vindictive?


The orb web of Zygiella spiders have missing s...

The orb web of Zygiella spiders have missing sectors. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I leave spiders in the house alone. Popz says that spiders
can be very vindictive but I really believe if you leave
the little girls alone and don’t screw with their webs, they
will be happy to allow you to coexist with them in the same
space.

Part of this philosophy comes from an experience I had dusting
cob webs at my love’s house. I got to one cobweb and there was
a spider still in the web, that I hadn’t noticed. Cob spiders
are very small. As I was moving the dust wand toward the web,
the spider, she began doing rapid loop-de-loops on her web and
I pulled my wand back.

Now it could be that she was just trying to make herself look
larger to a perceived predator or it could be, like Popz says,
vindictiveness, and a little message that if I’m going to attempt
to kill her, I had better make sure she’s dead or else I can
expect her to come crawling into my bed as I sleep and give me a
nice infected bite.

Who knows? This is just my personal feeling.

my left nostril


Nostrils before

Nostrils before (Photo credit: jeffandmandyg)

you understand people, you understand? i had a crystalline entity in my nostril, in my left nostril,
and discarded it without giving it full consideration… a crystalline entity inside my left nostril… curse
the memory, i remember not the year or circumstance, we played so many games of dice snorting in
between rubbers, but once, once, i had a crystalline entity in my left nostril, and i failed, i, i failed, to
pause to consider this crystalline entity…

i slighted a crystalline entity, that is my crime…

Yog Sototh is comin’ to get ya!


 

 

The Eye in the Pyramid as represented by The G...

The Eye in the Pyramid as represented by The Great Seal of the United States on a dollar bill (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

First, this poem is partially inspired by reading The Illuminatus! Trilogy by
Robert Anton Wilson and Robert Shea.  It is a short, metaphysical ramble
of a poem.  I hope you enjoy it!

 

 

 

prayers
entreaties
recanted confessions

made in haste
laid to waste

morsel for Yog Sototh
foolish belief
that He had any mercy
or Love

to begin with

 


On of Arron’s shorter poems, but still deliciously Arron!

In the parking lot lies a Boxer


Upper Cut punching angle bag

Upper Cut punching angle bag (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

In the parking lot lies the boxer

Dennis shot himself in the head in his car,
at the reservoir, in the metered parking
where he and I would drive and check out
the young women exercising around the lake.

I had wondered why his cell phone rang
disconnected, but being a stranger to his Mom,
I was afraid to walk down to his house and
check on him, and then my muse went teetering
on the edge of insanity, well not the edge,

she was committed and I had to relocate very quickly.

It was a year later, in a call from Texas, that my
Muse told me that Dennis had shot himself at the
reservoir a week after I had last seen him.

Patricia Anne Donohue the day the music died?… or for reals..
2 hours ago · Like

Heard in a conversation with my Muse last summer,
Think August, I only knew Dennis for a short time
while I was In Cali, he promised he was gonna put
up a punching bag off the tree we’d go to take a
swig of whiskey and teach me how to box. But then
he told me a lot of things in the short time I walked
the neighborhood with him.

 

My minivan for a key!


Will C. Rogers III minivan destroyed by pipe b...

Will C. Rogers III minivan destroyed by pipe bomb March 10, 1989 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

So I went to pick up my niece and nephew at the high school the other day and brought along a trash bag so I could
clean out my car while I waited in the loop line for them to come out because they often complain about how junky
queued up for their offspring and when I finished I went back to the driver’s seat only to realize that I had lost my
minivan key. My ONLY key.

A frantic search of all my pockets began (I have a lot of pockets) and then the compartments I had cleaned out.
The trash bag had split while I was stuffing it so I was forced to dump into a larger trash bag that contained old fitting
software for Mom’s programmable hearing aids she sells. I tore a whole in my jeans trying to do all this while keeping
the rear deck lid from banging into me in the February wind but no key.

My niece and nephew came out of the high school with their books and backpacks with puzzled and embarrassed looks
on their faces. I had to explain to them that I had lost my minivan key as people went around me in the loop line.
My nephew said, “I’m gonna get Matt to give me a ride home” and my niece said, “Call AAA!” as they both picked up their
books and bags and left me stranded in the school parking lot. I don’t have AAA. I re-examined all my pockets and all the
compartments I had cleaned and no key. I went to the back of the minivan, to the drooping deck lid and rifled through the
trash in the larger bag I had dumped everything in and got a nice black stain on my jeans. Frustration.

I lifted the larger bag of trash and programming software, and there lay my key. I drove home all by myself in a clean minivan.

 

fuck your indifference


Flower dream

Flower dream (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

fuck this world
its beautiful flowers
and self actuating drones
fuck carrying a wizard staff wherever I go
fuck your small imagination that makes you follow someone else’s
fucked up dreams
fuck your indiffference
and fuck you!

should i write a sonnet about lemmings?


English: A dead lemming on a stone in the rive...

English: A dead lemming on a stone in the river Revåa in Norway. Lemmings migrate in large numbers across the landscape, stopping for nobody. When they have to cross a river of some size, some lemmings will die. Every few years so many lemmings die this way that drinking the water from the streams becomes a health hazard to people hiking in the mountains. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

should i write a sonnet
about lemmings?
their charming culture
and complicated relationships?
should i go on and on about the baby lemming
a lemming mother lost in a snowstorm?
should i try instead to reform them?
or just laugh, heartily,
as they run off yet another cliff?

 

 

Drone Ditty and Drone Poem


MQ-1L Predator UAV armed with AGM-114 Hellfire...

MQ-1L Predator UAV armed with AGM-114 Hellfire missiles (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What must it be like to have the mind of a death drone.  I imagine them as happy little killers so
I wrote a ditty and a poem.

i’m a lil drone bot,
sleek and fast
here is my missile
here is my mast
i’ll put you six feet under
with a blast
you won’t see me coming
and you’ll breathe your last

DRONE POEM

i dreamt i was a happy drone
looking for some unfortunate target
over Yemen or Somalia…
oh so many countries to choose from

i love shooting my hellfire missiles
at the completely unawares
can’t wait to try it out on my home soil

oh well, a drone can dream, can’t it
i’ll have my day

So you see it’s not so bad, that dead child just made a lonely drone’s day!

Lackluster Ruminations, definitely will help you get a good night’s sleep.


Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time of the Triumph of...

Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time of the Triumph of Venus (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Here are some more random thoughts running through the undercurrent of what
is left of my synaptic membraims.  If you trail off though you may miss something.

Crumble.
Decay.

teeth falling out one by one
spots showing up in field of vision

but fingers know the way
if not, they find the way

to keep the Spirit smiling

crocuses poking their heads out early
in my imagination
or maybe not MY imagination
hard to tell these days what with
crimes against reality

perpetrated by every 14 year old with an iPhone5

So I have to fill out another paper document for the amusement of the Matrix and
as I ponder this and see this document in going off in transit like the opening credits
of Monty Python’s Flying Circus and wonder what mysterious object the Matrix turns
it into upon its arrival in the Central Processing Unit. Perhaps they just convert it into
a binary string that they pipe into their comedy clubs, if the Matrix has such things.

Her pussy, every time, felt like what Prince Charming Felt in his nads when he
slipped that Glass Slipper on Cinderella’s foot.

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