Archive for the ‘Wow! Signal’ Category

I don’t remember how I got to sleep,

nor for how long I slept.

No dreams,

hazy memory.

I came to with a horribly dry mouth,

groggy,

I felt like I’d been drugged.

The TV was on but silent,

the gray-white-black fuzz they call snow

pulsating.

I imagined it was falling

and, with a tight smile,

I imagine the real thing might be falling too,

outside.

My mind’s eye…

It might as well be Saturn.

 

©ddr7hd

 

He asked me what kind of dog I would like, if I wanted a dog (which I don’t). I played along.   Okay, well… I’m not one for pedigree pooches, or dogs that require a lot of grooming. No, I’d want a strong little mutt, a mongrel with spunk. A real muttnik. Yes!…

Muttnik!

From scavenging on the mean streets to flying amongst the stars, straight into my heart, like the best kind of TV movies. Ahh…

 

I imagine myself completely naked,

walking along a pristine beach.

I’m holding the hand of a man,

he too is naked.

We aren’t talking,

we have no need to speak out loud,

we are communing silently,

it is a deep and pure connection,

as we walk along the beach.

I feel safe and secure.

I feel enlightened.

I no longer feel afraid.

The scene is beautiful.

We are beautiful.

We are made in the image of God.

 

Garden of Eden.

Something beautiful,

sullied by your perception,

messed up,

by your rejection of grace,

your refusal to consider others,

as they should refuse to consider you.

You string me along,

then humiliate,

and desecrate.

Well, screw you,

I take no blame.

You are a big man,

a real bald-headed Adam.

I say: Get behind me, Satan,

I’ve had enough of your crap.

 

Bright flashing lights off,

Oahu’s coastal highways,

live long and foster.

 

A man gets out of a van, he has a clipboard and an air of self-importance. Loudly he calls my name…

 

Beatnik.

Sputnik.

Muttnik.

Refusenik.

High art, pop culture interpretations, history, rocket science, street dogs, saying yes to who you are, and saying no to who you don’t want to be. … Screw compromise – let it burn up on re-entry! Never to be touched by human hands again. … Perhaps ultimately we’re all destined to be space junk.

 

Yes!

I love it, I’m not offended.

Peace out.

 

1988, 1989, FES Bike

Posted: 2016-05-25 in Dagmar., Time, Wow! Signal

Machine, sleek, the future was here.

Velodrome curves, sexy.

Enough to give a certain kind of guy an erection.

Female, I felt it within.

Plastic orgasm.

 

 

The clouds part.

Dark sky.

The Moon appears through tree branches.

You’ve got a friend.

… 

So, we reply, after many years of pondering, to the “Wow! Signal” with Tweets, a few videos, comedy, stupidity and banality.

We address ourselves as another intelligent life form, apparently not good for eating.

“Here are some videos from our great minds and beauties. If you saw the Pioneer Plaque a few years ago, you’ll notice that we look a bit different and we’ve become a whole lot less intelligent, dumbed-down we call it.

Yes, surely we’re more entertaining (it’s good for ratings – I can’t explain that to you!) and, what’s more our women now have a pudendal cleft (beneath the clothing they now wear, which varies in its constriction and severity depending upon the region of our planet or sect to which she belongs.

Regions are important to us, and when it comes to our women, the pubic region is paramount (that’s the area between the top of our legs, where our men have a powerful tool called a penis (you see it limply hanging down in the picture) and our women have nothing). Blank canvas, as on the Pioneer Plaque, our great minds perceive, and many of our women are literally cut by their mothers or other wise women, sliced grotesquely, made to bleed unnaturally, to adhere to a strange idea of identity.

Belonging, indeed, is important to us.

And the more that you get to know us the less you will want to communicate with us (or even “belong” in the same universe).”