Archive for the ‘science’ Category

Who called it writers block anyways?
more like usually writes but not today
jam tomorrow jam yesterday
but never clever enough to stuff the pin cushions
roll up the bills feelin’ unstitchings
saves time nine sink kitchens
wishing the elephant was an automat
check the status of that closet hatched
still full of dustmites
that crust sights flicked with a finger licking
sting lights at the mingler picking
one nurse hurt for the doctors heart
start calling out numbers art
post-it notes cover a wall unspoken
broken wheels on a spell potion
maze anagrams with the goblin King
spring summer monk temple fling
moon shines handmaiden sings
acid sunday’s girl from the prairies
isn’t really from the prairies
barely windy enough to make a crush
rush the pill to pillows untrust
thrust into a forest subtropic
the topic is drugs and hot chicks
and flame sticks dancing like back home
marty mcfly in the delorean
scoring plutonium on moms door again
biff’s got the book all bets are off
being john malkovich charlie coughed
caught the bus to bee-alzebub
rub a dub give Aladdin the tubs
catch the carpet for the snub replay
too sane for my say
blue face-paint from the free shelf
we don’t serve that kind of elf
wait outside while the sabers dance
prolapsed chance to save the universe
for what it’s worth
still bleeding ink blue perverse
this side of a sideways hangover
one rung short of a come over
exercise on the year of the monkey bars
all-star almanac and flying cars
and weird futures like impossible
one year ain’t that long just improbable
yet unstoppable I kiss the girl at the airport
summer of love, summer too short
now I’m in a forest and its god’s court
gold watches are so last year
tennis players commercial for beer
and I fear the desert is un-insurable
purple t-shirt worthable
worthers originals with Grandpa
replaced Wilford Brimley switched with David Bowie
and all the crazy just knows me
flows and grows and breeds
like bees kept secret from the Vatican
I’m my own clown fetish in a vat again
of mixed up chemicals
carrying fixed up decibels
to jungle mountain festivals
and back again
sunday distorted
on track again
from the mist imported
luck dragons and garbage bin bullies
didn’t know me since I spun soul leaves
in an avatar avalanche shirt bender
word turf mender
on all the quilts of yesterdays
who called it writers block anyways?

Silver Sun

Posted: May 19, 2013 in modern life, science, technology, Uncategorized
Tags: ,

Open a window baby

Let in the locust robots surveillance-

I know it bothers you

That the bugs are metal spies, just give them a chance-

We could be so free

If we only give our information up-

It’s not just the government

It’s a world wide web of security and love-

Cause it’s me little silver sun-

They always catch the ones that run-

The eyes of never being alone-

Gotta love those pretty little drones-

Do you hear the whisper sound

Of four propellers spinning in unison-

Fully directional

With a gigabyte log of the last places that you been-

And I feel a peace now

That comes from the fact that we’re on CCTV-

Don’t try to react

With your new age hippie rights to privacy-

Cause it’s me little silver sun-

They always catch the ones that run-

The eyes of never being alone-

Gotta love those pretty little drones-

Just feel the release

Of the beauty-

Of the season

Of scrutiny-

Always on the map

Always under the lens-

For our


Gnomes don’t care for rules much. I learned the reality of that from my great-uncle Caz. He had ten servants once, when he was my age. I only remember one gnome, when I was a boy. The gnome was called Nutscenter by the insulting maid, but its true gmonish prounonciation is Noobscience. It worked always in the observatory, helped old unkie Caz with the star charts and radios.

Noobscience wore blue and gold buckles and a white collared little shirt. His size was 0001 of a normal humans, Aunty Bleezem always told me.  Later, while researchering for university Lawn Myths I found atext that said:

Blue-harem Spyglassieres, of the eleventh shawdow. Colored for the art of night-gazing. Temperaments low. Feed on mostly nuts and logan berries.

I was a curious student, just as adventurous while a young man. I interviewed my cousin Sheila twice to start notes on her biography. Anyways, I learned much of the berry-folk. I learned that their kind, Lagamoran, High-Elvis Impersonators and Dwarf Wrestlers all had invented technologies for before the Primates who would become humans. The Primates were jealous of Gnomecanisms, Gnomejets and Gnomeconomics. The Primates, always the aggressors, built up a large armed forces and burn the Gnome Bank-Villages. The High_Elvis impersonators would later sing about it in folklore songs.

The Blue-hamer Spyglassieres looked into the future during the first Gnome on Pre-History Humans. They made an omninous deck of tarot type cards called the GnosTeck. The GnosTeck predicted three cards representing the Gnome World:

1. The Panda, Doy Shuko, (9)

The Panda always meant rain in the future. Flooding or power outages.

2. The Sky, Doy Ciekle, (65)

The Sky meant limitless, unending or a leak in a mechanism.

and 3. The Cog, Dey Kogge (101)

The cog meant one must not forget their tools. Also an explanation is eminent, and that knowledge is a great tool.

So the Blue-harem Spyglassieres invested their war efforts on aerial mechanisms, black and white camouflage and libraries. Gnome libraries never had books, they were rather habitated by extremely old elders. The Senior Gnome Society of Historics was a membership held both thirds by wizards (represented by blue) the scientist (represented by the sky) and the Alchemists (represented by gold). The Alchemists would later be shunned by Blue-harmony and exiled. Alchemist Gnomes would go on to invent thousands of devices used to manage and detect chemistry.

During the take over of Palking House, a great capitalistic giant of Bl;ue-harem Spyglassieres, the famous industrialist moggle Jorge Davidsengen had on staff six thousand Gnome families. Most of these Gnomes would die one generation in the Gilbert/Murphy Oilspill.

That was all I had from that Gnome book. I had another book once from the library called Gnomes In Gardens, but it had very little information. Mostly it was a Gnome coloring book.

I do remember one thing about Noobscience was his weird slightly inhuman laugh ‘heheheheheheheeee-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-heeeee’.

And once I walked into the observatory fixing a radio. I swear I saw smoke coming from his eyes, but know one believes me. That little old man scared me when I was a boy. I heard him say to my father “I can’t stand barcodes, literally disgustin'”

Noobscience had a very strange accent, almost Egyptian when happy. I always thought he sounded asian when angry. He continued “Can’t even look at a barcode without thinking about the old wars, the mannakin burnings and scarcrows.”

Scarcrows were the old nickname for what we later called tankspikes. Long pikes in the ground with straw faces. Meant to attract and kill small crows, bunnys and Gnomes. My great-uncle Caz always warned me not to curse in a garden or the crows would come.

Gnome myths are dubious though. The Spyglassieres could have been nothing more than just clever bankers or scripters. My cousin Sheila went on to be a Military Dancer for the IMO. International Moral Offensive. I know, doesn’t seem to make sense, but people used to try to win culture with kindness.

And now I always remember Blue-harem Spyglassieres when I scan a barcode at work. It must be so strange when Gnomes have this rifle pointed at them and see this Humans First price and bardcode.


Challenger Verklempt

Posted: January 24, 2012 in neocolonialism, science

There is no phenomenon or human endeavor

That fills me with moral ambivalence

To such an astronomical measure

As that of the American Space Program missions

National Aeronautics and Space Administration

The non-military emphasis reveals its true status clearly

For the minute sputnik went up to the pentagons consternation

Imagining the horrors of the red threat beyond the stratosphere

Mind control lasers and communist magnetic pulse beams

So NASA is formed and the cowboy space race begins

The media awakens a national sci-fi nerds wet dream

Their excuse is scientific exploration, I consent! I consent!

Suddenly Joe public has a new billion dollar sport to watch

Tie those mid-western mythical heroes to a rocket and take off

While baby-faced Kennedy smiles and sets the clock

“By the end of this decade I decree the white man will moonwalk!”

Oh don’t you pretend it wasn’t a giant hydrogen filled gimic

A distraction from the civil rights movement and the bombing of the East

It was America’s epic last grasp at colonialism

Planting the red, white and blue on that giant piece of cheese

Lets all relive it, Buzz Aldrin channeling the soul of Colombus

Can you feel it, the disappointment hitting you in a wave

Realizing the moon was nothing but dust

No resources to exploit, no natives to enslave

But it was “One small step for Propagandists!

“And one giant leap for the military industrial complex!”

By a margin of six months they fulfill JFK’s promise

But does the achievement make the magic Dealy Plaza bullet hurt any less?

But the star spangled tragedy that still makes my heart sick

Is the seven brave souls turned to smoke wisps over Florida

One cold and morning of nineteen eighty-six

I was only a three year old bumpkin here in Manitoba

But two decades later, through the magic of Youtube

I too can join the students, family, building excitement

All the dream and purpose of the space-age take into the blue

Then seventy three seconds in, puff- and I’m Challenger verklempt

Cause only in America can the death of so few become disaster

CNN live international millions watching “Ah, obviously a major malfunction…”

And the sparkle and pizzazz of this dreamworld couldn’t disintegrate any faster

The brain of the anchorman screaming- “Say something, say something, say something…”

But all he could utter as the camera pans the fluttering debris

Is “pieces falling out of the sky” while the whole sphincter of the globalist elite goes “oh shit…”

The recovery team better salvage something from this please

And as I personally watch the footage, the context slams me like a fist

Cause this wasn’t just your typical phallus obsessed NASA tax expenditure

Scotch taping cowboys in a shuttle to a hydrogen filled detonator

No because the late Christa McAuliffe, schoolteacher, was crew on the doomed Challenger

Yes, on that fateful day, the final frontier dared to claim the life f an educator!

So you can youtube any moment you choose, at your fingertips

The dismantling of the Berlin wall or the fall of WTC seven

And call it footage as the forward momentum of the Empire slips

But for me it will always be the child looking up to the heavens

Go home and google ‘Challenger disaster spectators’

You’ll see a group of young students, NASA hats, American flags

Mouths a gap with the wonder of modern man and post-industrial reverence

Staring at a trail of smoke, barely realizing their teacher was never coming back.


Posted: May 11, 2011 in science

Its hard to have heart,

and speak of science.

That great zenith,

that ziggurat of knowledge,

That every modern man-

manages with as he can…

Hard to turn from doubt,

when they speak of science.

Telling me they know

the workings of the stars.

Our very sun just one

in a billion

yet in a trillion

flakes of snow,

Not one the same?

Hard to think I know,

cause I’ve heard of science.

Filtered by specialists,

spread by evangelists.

The very essence of life,

all figured out,

and being taken care of.

Hard to stand firm,

on the frontier of science.

Ignoring my heart

cause I took it apart

on a stainless steel table

in grade nine.

My hands tremble,

my feet shake.

Hard is the fist of poetry,

raised up against science.

Struggling in a lost war,

as history does mutiny

to imagination.

As even the written word,

is recorded against us.

Hard is the mind,

to reunite with science.

That unestablished fight,

that rebellion,

of our ideas,

versus what we hear…

Hard to start over,

once science told us all how to build the bomb.

How to take apart god at his very Achilles heel- reason

Hard to stop it now,

hands pressed up against science.

The sight of strained sinews,

reminds one of laws of motion and force,

resistance and limits of infinites and errors.