panda6.net

Hello! This is my first post here, and I’ve been invited by panda6 to be a guest writer this week.

I would like to discuss parenting a bit. I never really knew my father, which I think made me into the person I am today. That includes the immortality, fear of rejection, and addiction to prescription drugs. I also have known a lot of people who were raised by abusive parents, and they turned out pretty effed up as well.

For my first guest column here at panda6.net, I will be guiding new and not-so-new parents through some of the more common stressful situations that arise in the home.

How to Be a Better Parent - Part 1: Discipline

Leslie has just returned home after surviving a horrible car accident. The accident cost her 2 pints of blood and her emotional stability, and has cost her father one 1998 Ford Taurus in its entirety.

Leslie: Daddy, I’m so sorry about your car!

Father: Leslie *raises hand*

Leslie: *instinctively cowers to protect her face and neck* What happened to your hand daddy?

Father: Oh, I’ve been out in the garage punching my bare fist through drywall and bricks to get it out of my system.

Leslie: Oh daddy I love you! Thanks for not beating me again!

Father: *shaking from the pain of bone shards breaking the skin* I’m glad you’re unharmed, child.

Take the High Road

On of the most important lessons to be learned about parenting is that you are a role model to your children. While the majority of their life lessons will come from reruns of Law and Order, you play an important role in your child’s development. They will learn from your actions and strive to become someone genetically similar to you. It is always in your best interest to take a bad situation and take the moral or physical high road when it comes to resolving it.

The most common way to react to a child destroying a 1998 Ford Taurus is to hit or kick the child at fault. However, recent studies have shown that this method can dramatically affect a child well into their mid teens. It can be difficult to think of a better alternative during a moment of heated and uncontrollable rage, so be sure to write down any ideas you may have during your short bouts of sobriety and lucidity. Consider posting them on the refridgerator or next to your gun!

The above scenario illustrates one healthy alternative to beating your child. Taking out your anger on inanimate objects is a good way to release your feelings while sparing your beloved child’s health. You may also consider hitting your wife, as she’s at least 50% responsible for your daughter’s bad driving skills in this case.

By taking the high road, you have taught your daughter that self-inflicted-pain is a healthy way to relieve oneself of stress or anger. She also will feel even more guilty when she wakes up in the middle of the night haunted by the image of your mangled hand. Double play.

There is Always a Better Solution

I’m sure you’re thinking “Jesus, that’s a great solution for a hypothetical car accident, but what about all those other things or whatever wait a second I don’t even have any kids”. Well, there are many ways to react to the horrible things your children do, and they can be classified as somewhat appropriate or pretty messed up. Below is a short questionairre to help you categorize your reactions.

A. Your son is gay or acts kinda gay at least. How would you confront him?

1. Paint “no homos allowed” on their bedroom door and board it shut.
2. Sit them down and ask them if they’d like to talk about it
3. Dress up in a giant inflatable penis costume and wear a t-shirt that says “I LOVE YOU TOO”
4. Completely redesign their room to be suitable for a little girl and call them by girls’ names

B. Your daughter is pregnant. What would you say to her?

1. “I guess I can’t hit you because I might kill that kid and end up on trial for murder”
2. “I’ll love you twice as much since there are two of you occupying the same space now”
3. “Let’s go take care of this RIGHT NOW”
4. Nothing at all for 6 or 7 years.

C. While playing a game in the house, your children broke an expensive vase. How do you react?

1. Tell them to clean it up. That vase was ugly anyway and your wife won’t throw it out because “it’s from Aunt Sally and she bought it on a trip to blah blah” and now it’s finally gone.
2. Act really mad but do the same as option 1.
3. Tell them to leave it there so she can see how much better it looks shattered on the floor.

D. Your son failed math class and is now dangerously close to failing out of middle school. What is the best punishment?

1. Three days in the toolshed. No food. No water. Fifty rats.
2. Six days in the toolshed. No food. One glass of water. One hundred rats.
3. Tutor him on the side and don’t allow him to play with his friends until his homework is done and verified.
4. Make him wear a shirt that says “Normal Human + 8 chromosomes = me” for a month.

Now we’ll see how your answers compared to what a team of scientists have determined to be the best answers.

A. Gay Kid - Response: The penis costume. While subtly making fun of your son’s lust for cocks, you are also introducing a sense of compassion by using the word “love”. Also, you get to use that penis costume, which is great because it was expensive.

If you chose the option to talk to your child, then you’re probably not the best parent. What are you going to talk about, the multitude of fabric options for full length drapes? What does that even mean?

B. Whore daughter - Response: Tell her you can’t hit her because you don’t want to go to jail for accidentally killing that fetus. This lets her know that you want to hit her, but aren’t going to because you care about things. You get to send a message while not being forced to explain to the cops at 2 in the morning that your clumsy daughter tripped and fell through the dining room table and out the window again.

Don’t tell her you love her twice as much, because then she’ll be tempted to just pack babies in there until you can’t love her anymore. This is not only dangerous, but potentially annoying come birthing time. Breaking all communications makes you a bit of a dick, and hinting at abortion will haunt you when you’re trying to buy presents for the kid’s first birthday, causing you to drastically overspend.

C. Broken Vase - Response: That vase was such a ridiculous piece of crap, it doesn’t matter what you answered. All that counts is that you didn’t break it yourself, on purpose. Nice self restraint.

D. Dumb Kid - Response: You should have gone with the shirt option. As seen in example A, the penis costume, a t-shirt with a proper slogan is a potential solution to nearly any problem. Your child will be asked what the shirt means many, many times a day, and eventually they will realize that having too many chromosomes makes you retarded. They’ll then realize how important math is, or something along those lines. Most certainly, however, they won’t be failing another class for fear of what terrible slogan you’ll make them wear in public.

The toolshed options aren’t safe. While surviving on rats is entirely possible, the rats will have an easier time surviving on your child. That might be just a little too legally risky in this situation.

Now What?

Did you get at least one of the questions correct? If so, congratulations, you’re doing great as a parent. Your instincts are good enough to keep you in reach of the moral high road. Remember, if there’s a physical high road, also take that. You can see better from up there and are under less pressure of an ambush.

If you were unable to answer even one question correctly, then you should read and understand the correct answers listed above. You will need to adapt your thinking to keep you from going down a dangerous path that will cause your children to put you in a home when you’re old and smelly.

So get out there and start parenting to the best of your ability. When it comes to disciplining your children, remember: discipline yourself in the process and always consider the t-shirt option.

The landlord is ready to kick you out on the street for being three months behind on rent, and there are at least twelve crying babies scattered throughout the apartment. Too bad that job at Sizzler didn’t work out. We all know the feeling. Everyone’s been there. Luckily, there is a way to make some quick cash that requires literally no education, qualification, or even effort.

How to Be a Street Whore:

Equip Yourself: You will need the following items

1. A lack of self respect
2. Whorish clothing - Every female has the required uniform somewhere in their closet
3. Clown makeup - You now shop for makeup at costume stores instead of the dollar store like usual
4. A wig - The police won’t recognize you as easily if you change your wig frequently
5. A vagina or other orifice

Prepare Your Skills: You may need to research or practice these things

1. Whoring - This is a general term for shameless self advertising and client soliciation. Basically, acting like a whore.
2. Sucking and Fucking - FYI, this is how you ended up with 4 dozen kids. You’re a champ.
3. Negotiation - When you say “twenty”, the client will say “I’ve only got ten”. The right answer is always “good enough”
4. Crying - Tell the officer your client hit you. Tell the next officer the previous officer hit you. See you on Cops.

Ship the Package: Buckle the fuck up let’s fuck a stranger for money

Alright, let’s get out there. Make sure your children are safely locked in a small room and leave them a bowl of water and raw ramen noodles. If one of them is older than 4 or can passably speak English or Spanish, consider leaving them in charge. Strap on those high heels, a few coats of facepaint, and make sure your skirt is short enough to show your fallopian tubes if you so much as breathe.

If, somehow, you don’t already live in the worst part of town, go ahead and walk the extra block to get there. You’re looking for an area where you’ve got a few yards of sidewalk to yourself. You may be sharing the block with fellow whorebags. Like babboons, they can be violently territorial and are likely to attack if provoked. You are the newcomer and should be careful to integrate yourself without stepping on their toes. Press-on nails can be sharpened for use as a handy weapon.

Stick that ass out and walk up and down your section of pavement. Make eye contact with every car that passes by. Generally, your best best is a fat man that’s crying or anyone in a fancy car. If and when they pull up to the curb, approach the passenger side of the car and lean into the window. Remember: Up until this point, aside from being high on crack, you haven’t broken the law.

Because your potential client is driving around at 2am in the worst neighborhood in town, looking for solicited sex and possibly drugs, you can say almost anything to seal the deal. Some popular options include:

• Looking for a date honey?
• Wanna go for a ride?
• In exchange for money I will perform a variety of sexual favors.

Once they accept your offer, enter the car and ask them if they are a police officer. They will always say no.

At this point, you are at the complete whim of your client. You have entered into an unwritten code of conduct that requires you to perform any act physically possible for whatever amount of money the client deems fit. This is okay, because you are not technically a human being.

In case you are concerned with sexually transmitted diseases, here’s a little tip: You cannot contract a sexually transmitted disease if you smoke crack before you engage in sexual activity. This is a scientific fact.

After you have finished your session with the client, presuming you haven’t been killed and dumped in a river, it’s time to begin the process all over again. You may wish to stop home and refill your children’s water bowl and raw ramen supply. If you happen to be pregnant again already, go ahead and drop the little guy off with his big brothers and sisters while you’re there.

After a few nights, you’ll have more than enough money to pay your rent and get the electricity turned back on. Just remember to always leave a bag of cat food somewhere in the house in case you end up in jail for a week or two. Your children will eventually find and consume it in the event they run out of ramen. If left to their own devices too long, it is common that one or two of the weaker ones will be eaten by the others. This is okay.

Well, I hope that you’re able to get out there and use this lesson to get back on your feet. Now you’re ready to whore it up! Get going, you’ve got six hundred children to feed!

Welcome to Panda6.net! I’ll be moving some old content from poshack.com and nerdrage.net over here, as well as some articles posted on MySpace. I will no longer be updating my MySpace blog because I actually have to pay for this one.

The new blogging software is different enough from the MySpace one that some things just didn’t translate properly.

During the summer of 2003, events in the northeastern United States involving a strange, humanlike creature sparked brief local media interest before an apparent blackout was enacted. Little or no information was left intact, as most online and written accounts of the creature were mysteriously destroyed.

Primarily focused in rural New York state, self proclaimed witnesses told stories of thier enounters with a creature of unkown origin. Emotions ranged from extremely traumatic levels of fright and discomfort, to an almost childlike sense of playfulness and curiosity. While their published versions are no longer on record, the memories remained powerful. Several of the involved parties began looking for answers that year.

In early 2006, the collaboration had accumulated nearly two dozen documents dating between the 12th century and present day, spanning 4 continents. In almost all cases, the stories were identical. I’ve been in contact with a member of this group and was able to get some exceprts from their upcoming book.

The Rake

A Suicide Note: 1964

As I prepare to take my life, I feel it necessary to assuage any guilt or pain I have introduced through this act. It is not the fault of anyone other than him. For once I awoke and felt his presence. And once I awoke and saw his form. Once again I awoke and heard his voice, and looked into his eyes. I cannot sleep without fear of what I might next awake to experience. I cannot ever wake. Goodbye.

Found in the same wooden box were two empty envelopes addressed to William and Rose, and one loose personal letter with no envelope.

Dearest Linnie,
I have prayed for you. He spoke your name.

A Journal Entry (translated from Spanish): 1880

I have experience the greatest terror. I have experienced the greatest terror. I have experienced the greatest terror. I see his eyes when I close mine. They are hollow. Black. They saw me and pierced me. His wet hand. I will not sleep. His voice (unintelligible text).

A Mariner’s Log: 1691

He came to me in my sleep. From the foot of my bed I felt a sensation. He took everything. We must return to England. We shall not return here again at the request of the Rake.

From a Witness: 2006

Three years ago, I had just returned from a trip from Niagara Falls with my family for the 4th of July. We were all very exhausted after a long day of driving, so my husband and I put the kids right to bed and called it a night.

At about 4am, I woke up thinking my husband had gotten up to use the restroom. I used the moment to steal back the sheets, only to wake him in the process. I appologized and told him I though he got out of bed. When he turned to face me, he gasped and pulled his feet up from the end of the bed so quickly his knee almost knocked me out of the bed. He then grabbed me and said nothing.

After adjusting to the dark for a half second, I was able to see what caused the strange reaction. At the foot of the bed, sitting and facing away from us, there was what appeared to be a naked man, or a large hairless dog of some sort. It’s body position was disturbing and unnatural, as if it had been hit by a car or something. For some reason, I was not instantly frightened by it, but more concerned as to its condition. At this point I was somewhat under the assumption that we were supposed to help him.

My husband was peering over his arm and knee, tucked into the fetal position, occasionally glancing at me before returning to the creature.

In a flurry of motion, the creature scrambled around the side of the bed, and then crawled quickly in a flailing sort of motion right along the bed until it was less than a foot from my husband’s face. The creature was completely silent for about 30 seconds (or probably closer to 5, it just seemed like a while) just looking at my husband. The creature then placed its hand on his knee and ran into the hallway, leading to the kids’ rooms.

I screamed and ran for the lightswitch, planning to stop him before he hurt my children. When I got to the hallway, the light from the bedroom was enough to see it crouching and hunched over about 20 feet away. He turned around and looked directly at me, covered in blood. I flipped the switch on the wall and saw my daughter Clara.

The creature ran down the stairs while my husband and I rushed to help our daughter. She was very badly injured and spoke only once more in her short life. She said “he is the Rake”.

My husband drove his car into a lake that night, while rushing our daughter to the hospital. He did not survive.

Being a small town, news got around pretty quickly. The police were helpful at first, and the local newspaper took a lot of interest as well. However, the story was never published and the local television news never followed up either.

For several months, my son Justin and I stayed in a hotel near my parent’s house. After we decided to return home, I began looking for answers myself. I eventually located a man in the next town over who had a similar story. We got in contact and began talking about our experiences. He knew of two other people in New York who had seen the creature we now referred to as the Rake.

It took the four of us about two solid years of hunting on the internet and writing letters to come up with a small collection of what we believe to be accounts of the Rake. None of them gave any details, history or follow up. One journal had an entry involving the creature in its first 3 pages, and never mentioned it again. A ship’s log explained nothing of the encounter, saying only that they were told to leave by the Rake. That was the last entry in the log.

There were, however, many instances where the creature’s visit was one of a series of visits with the same person. Multiple people also mentioned being spoken to, my daughter included. This led us to wonder if the Rake had visited any of us before our last encounter.

I set up a digital recorder near my bed and left it running all night, every night, for two weeks. I would tediously scan through the sounds of me rolling around in my bed each day when I woke up. By the end of the second week, I was quite used to the occasional sound of sleep while blurring through the recording at 8 times the normal speed. (This still took almost an hour every day)

On the first day of the third week, I thought I heard something different. What I found was a shrill voice. It was the Rake. I can’t listen to it long enough to even begin to transcribe it. I haven’t let anyone listen to it yet. All I know is that I’ve heard it before, and I now believe that it spoke when it was sitting in front of my husband. I don’t remember hearing anything at the time, but for some reason, the voice on the recorder immediately brings me back to that moment.

The thoughts that must have gone through my daughter’s head make me very upset.

I have not seen the Rake since he ruined my life, but I know that he has been in my room while I slept. I know and fear that one night I’ll wake up to see him staring at me.

On a family trip to Aunt Cordelia’s ranch, the kids play with flowers, bugs, and themselves - and a smile nearly forms on young Carmichael’s face, for the first time in years. Suddenly, he collapses to the beaten earth, blood raging from his nose and mouth, unable to breathe. Why can’t young Carmichael breathe? Why can’t he smile?

It’s Asthma.

Asthma is the name smart people, like doctors, give to the disease that makes it hard to breathe. When normal people breathe, air flows in through the mouth, nose and ears and is ushered into the lungs by small bacteria like insects, where it can enter the bloodstream. However, those like Carmichael cannot breathe normally, for they are part a violent war twenty four hours a day. It is a war with themselves.

Asthma, like Anorexia Nervosa, alters the victim’s self image. As an anorexic teenage girl may look in the mirror and see an unsightly behemoth, dripping with fat, oil and other bodily fluids, an Asthma victim often sees a person who breathes too much. Sadly, they are breathing the right amount, but the vicious Asthma parasites make them feel otherwise. This leads to depression, withdrawal from everyday life, and in almost all cases, a slow and especially painful death.

Take a look at some startling statistics from last year, comparing Asthma to another popular disease: Alcohol.

• Alcohol caused the deaths of thousands of people. Asthma killed forty billion.
• Alcohol downed over 30 airplanes, killing hundreds of people. Asthma kills kittens.
• Alcohol is responsible for hurricane Katrina. Asthma is responsible for the levees.

As you can see, the seriousness of this affliction is far greater than once believed. Unfortunately, there is no known cure for Asthma. Victims of this horrible, horrible disease are condemned to a life of waiting - for death.

But not anymore.

Pfizer Pharmaceuticals would like to introduce Asthma Bear, the first breath of relief for the billions of people and Germans suffering from the debilitating illness.
Asthma Bear is a once-a-day solution to under-breathing. Unlike other medications, such as Asprin or rave-grade ecstasy, Asthma Bear is not a pill. It is also not a gel-cap or soft-gel. It is a living, breathing, and hungry Kodiak Grizzly Bear. Used once a day, symptoms of Asthma will be reduced by over 98.4%.

Asthma Bear will poach your Asthma so hard. So hard.

Take a deep breath, breathe freely, with Asthma Bear.

At some point, everybody finds themselves dealing with excess anger toward endangered animals. This feeling of overwhelming hatred toward the local “prarie elf lizard” or “wetlands hairless tree beaver” is normal and surprisingly common. It is for this reason that my first installment of “How to Be a…” directly addresses this shockingly pervasive sentiment.

How to Be a Poacher:

Equip Yourself: You will need the following items
1) A shotgun
2) A plane ticket to China and passport
3) 1 box of shotgun shells - buy these in China, they invented gunpowder
4) A burning and fiery hatred for pandas
5) A net or bag

Prepare Your Skills: You may need to research or practice these things
1) Running - You may be required to chase, or be chased by, large animals or people
2) Hiding - Pandas can see in the dark and can smell fear, also in the dark
3) Shooting - You know to do this from video games
4) Skinning - “There is no zipper on a panda” - Ming Zho

Ship the Package: Buckle the fuck up let’s kill a panda
You’re all set. Be sure to check your gun properly and don’t eat the ham sandwich on the plane. While not mentioned as required equipment, you may wish to bring a magazine or throw some Britney Spears on your iPod or whatever. This will be a long flight, use the time to build your rage.

Upon arriving, find a taxi and ask him in Chinese to take you to a hotel near known panda mating grounds. Don’t worry if it’s hours away, you can afford it. Seriously, they’ll drive you to a strip club in Tibet for like $5. It’s actually kind of sad, but you’re here to shoot a fucking panda.

Rest and prepare yourself for the following day.

Have a good breakfast in the morning. You will be chasing an elusive beast through dense forest and hilly terrain for the next 4-6 hours. As usual, use proper precautions with your weapon, and head out.

You are looking for signs of the panda, which include bamboo groves, half eaten stalks of bamboo on the ground, panda porn, or actual pandas. Once entering the forest, maintain tact and move in a wave pattern. Remember to look above you. Pandas can fly for short distances and frequently perch themselves near the tops of trees.

If and when you encounter a live panda, shoot it directly in the face. Now that you have killed a panda, you will find yourself infused with the power of thousands of poachers that have come before you. You are forever changed. Use your newly acquired powers to skin the panda without using your hands.

Now that your mission is complete, all you have left to do is board a plane with a fresh panda skin in your bag or possibly worn as a cape. Be polite and calm and nobody will give it a second thought. However, if you are confronted, remember this: you just shot a panda in the goddamned face. Who the hell is going to tell you what to do now? Nobody, that’s who.

Uses for your new panda skin are very limited. Panda leather is notoriously rough and hard to work with, and the fur itself is particularly oily and unpleasant to the touch. Perhaps consider burning or selling it.

I hope this lesson helps everyone to better deal with their horrible thoughts.

Categories: How to Be a... Tags:

Assorted Poetry

July 15th, 2006 panda6 No comments

A Supposed Lack of Insight

Midnight strikes, so be it
I must have missed the sign,
I didn’t see it
Laying down to rest while
Conversing with the crocodile
And pack my bags to stay awhile
Crooked with an awkward smile
My only thought to free it
I asked if this could be it,
And it said with croco-style,
“But never should one ask that question,
Expect just my interpretation,
The answer, friend, the satiation
Lies quietly within.”

More at Eleven

Something more than a sleepy vision
A deep incision, painful flowing
Small but growing, grasping tighly
Red, unsightly, calmness rising
Sympathizing, screaming gently
Wrapped and sent me, fluttered whistle
Gracious missle, once arriving
Tied and thriving, smiling faces
Worried paces, rising falling
Voices calling, hopeful glimmer
Labored shimmer, waking slowly
Thankful, wholly, wheeled away
To end a day
So many whom have seen

Optimistic, Outstretched and Bleeding

Once there was a boy, quiet
He found something small
And it grew

Carefully cultivated, energy poured
Echoed back to him, harder
Farther away

When he lost sight, he ran
Toward the blur, but its path had changed
And there it stood

But he, now, was lost
Led to a place uncertain
Not quite alone

Tired and confused, he found something else
He found his energy was gone
There was none left to give

And thus withered and died
All he strived for, the running had killed him
One last breath

His treasure took even that
To sustain itself, pity be to all
Who find that they are it

Not Today

Your choker choked me,
provoked my inner light
And made the night
Such a sight
For thus took flight
The subtle fright
Took something right
And sailed away.

The sunlight bound me
So profoundly took my fear
And waited near
So I hear
For thus appeared
The lonely tear
And left me here
But walked away.

A glance mistook me
When it shook me inside out
And lept about
For never pout
A small amount
Can be the grout
To fill me out
But not today.

Scout

Come toil in quiet contemp
Paperclip disarray, workspace unkempt.
Authorative voice from the aisle,
I bury my head in an envelope pile.

We’re looking for someone like you
To do all the things that we don’t want to do
Fluorescently lit is the key
You’ll fit in so well if you’ll try it and see.

And you can have all that you want
As long as your dream is to work as our grunt.
You’ll rake in the dollars and cents
(But upwards of half goes right back to the mint)

So fax us your resume soon,
And you can be hired by this afternoon.
With you we’ll all go so far,
But we really don’t care who you are.

The Constant

A great glowing marble, hovering, covering stuttering masses
Which passes the time with the spinning and thinning
Of depth to a field of uncertian disaster that faster and faster
May dim and grow colder until.

Once to the marble I said so, or fled so amazingly fast
That the moments which passed were digging while rigging
A trap for the mind so disturbingly kind that deeper and deeper
I fell through the vastness so still.

And further in space I reclined, which defined all the words
So absurd that it pained me to speak so I lie and I try
To relinquish a thought, whether ready or not to present and resent
Something meaningful this void will fill.

Yet the rumble of emotion ebbs and flows as such the ocean,
From a wicked sort of potion, created solely by the notion
That perfection is reachable
And happiness is teachable
Or instinct is impeachable
But it never seems so feasable,
That the constant here is ascertained
By giving love and taking pain,
As the marble spins so endlessly
So will you and then you’ll see
In perfect world the only word is be,
So be yourself for me.

Pond

Possibly confusing
And certainly losing
A certain connection,
Or twisted reflection,
Of an image I see
When I close my eyes,
Mixing truth with loving lies
Of something that tries
To touch us inside
And hold you in
But take a peek
For what we seek
Is here in this pond

The Infinite Beat

The infinite beat, an unrepressed power
Irrepressibly moving each day by the hour

Somewhere it gives, and forever it takes
But there’s always a calmness it makes

When never it seems like an answer is near
Just feel your heart if you want something clear

When clouded by one thing there never is less
Admitting and knowing just what you confess

Yet never lose sight and just quietly stand
When all that still matters is what’s in your hand

Wicker Fever

Wicker chair, oh wicker chair
You creak when I touch you
Not that I care

You’re scratchy and a little bit frayed
But your worth damn near twice what I paid

Wicker chair, oh wicker chair
You have pants and a hat
You’re covered in hair

Hey wait a minute! Wicker chairs don’t wear shoes!
I appologize, Timmy, you may go home!

Roses are Blue

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Cats are usually black,
But also come in other colors
Except green
But we all know that’s because they’d look too much
Like rabbits!
What’s up now rabbit?!
I will kill you!

3 parts

Floor

I found someone lying alone on my floor,
Well it’s me, now I see.
But then someone called me and I turned toward the door,
No one’s here? That’s my fear.
Oh but tell me what is that delite I smell cooking?
There’s nothing in sight but I’ll spend the day looking,
And later end up on the floor.

Everything Not Here Nor There

Hovering, hiding, rotating, diving, sliding and twisting,
Flipping and whistling, screaming and flying, or crying, but trying
To live when there’s neither an answer nor question
No hints and no clues and so rarely suggestion
But how does one get from the floor to the ceiling?
By paying or praying or sitting or kneeling?
Or maybe it’s all just a matter of feeling,
A little bit scared but aware that you’re healing.

Ceiling

in the midst of a cloud of a people
society waves a shadow of its hand over them
and the cloud shatters into pieces
like glass dropped on the moon
under the ceiling of pc, be-nice-but-not-to-you
a beam of light hits a single one
and is reflected
and refracted from one to the next
and the colors spread
from one to the next.
this cloud has made a rainbow
out of a single beam of light.

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