What Fur You Do, Your Ejected Electron Are TOO

 

              There  I was at work, and the drafting people were happy that the reactive robot that I invented and built for them was, as their boss had told them, bought from another company.  I worked at it.  I thought about it.  I viewed other people and what they have to do to accomplish their work.  I built it for them and only got paid my hourly salary because my boss listens to his boss’s boss who’s the uncle who owns part of the company.  At lunch, near my desk, several of my work partners slid down the stairs to get their cold chicken.

              For my lunch, I fell to the floor to wrap up some foot prints from my muddy work shoes.  The way my life works is that I am usually shoed away. Capistan and Cap A Goat.  I ate something that the cafeteria personal could not pronounce but could sell it to me.

               As I got back to work again, facing the gears towards each other so they can grow energy but not rub off each others’ existences, I thought to them and to myself.  I occasionally noticed.  My veins are pipes made out of copper and my arteries are made of lead.  My lungs are made of Pumice.  My skin is made of hematite.  My eyes are silicon.  My likes are sulfurs.  My dislikes are rusts.  Usually, my foe is  Iron Rust because of the Irony of my situation.  And I have to be situated a lot, because without a parking lot I cannot sit.  You may think I am Par but I think I am King.  King Kong, who snows my name like Pung Pounce, ten times as mean as I am.  And I am treated like yam in a jam.  Whoever rams I?

              I taught myself, to stay in existence, what is made up in myself.  It worked its way to this. All existence is in columns.  To know and accept and think we understand each other or at least what we walk  on which We claim that those atom columns are the makeup of protons and neutrons for individual elements are related to each other.  We claim those different but similar in a specific column act in similarly ways and we react to them in what we think are similarly ways.  The first column has one free electron on its outer side.  That free electron is used to connect with elements to add up with eight outer electrons making those elements elemental with ten agreeing electrons. The connected water like substances are these:

 

              Column 1A

             The first column is the one giving out one electron to the gaming, working together outer shell:            

              Hydrogen, Lithium, Sodium, Potassium, Rubidium, Caesium, Francium

 

              Column 8B

              The eighth column is the one that allows, uses, and abuses to make up in a connecting conjecture for water claiming makeups:

              Oxygen, Sulfur, Selenium, Tellurium, Polonium, Livermorium

 

              Ten is the comfort and agreement of the electrons pairing up in their joining outer shells.  That makes water.  That makes liquid.  That makes oil.  That makes the oceans we claim we live in.  How can we ever claim that we are Alive.  Most claims are A Lie.

             

              My body is made up of its water.  But that water of mine is made up.  Some say Water is H2O.  Two Hydrogens to One Oxygen.  Some Oxygen’s outer shells have 6 electrons so they need to hook up with two more.  Hydrogen has one electron total, so that is one in its outer shell.  A real molecule needs 8 electrons in its combined outer shell so Water is made up of Two Hydrogens and One Oxygen.  One of my fake waters is Two Potassiums and One Tellurium.  Another is Two Caesiums and one Livermorium.  Finally, I made up my wonderful, full of wander, and whatever water with Two Lithiums and One Sulfur.  Eight and Two.  Two and Eight.  Ten is tense in the intense of its intents. 

             

 

                                                                        H2O

                                                                        K2Te

                                                                        Cs2Rn

                                                                        Li2S

 

 

              Then I had to put up with a supreme robot car which judged that people had breathed instead of beated those beaded oxygenetic beeps.  They are the ones that sanction air and are not part of this country, so they should be skin stripped and head banged.  Two hundred words here, two hundred dollars there, and two hundred business owners who dare.

              When that occurred to me, I did not sweat.  And even though that is not sweet to me, it is because I feel cold no matter how warm it is.  Those liquids that I hoped were water, flushed constantly through my silicon salted skin, making those iron filings the fillings of my lungs and minds.   What?  Do I have No Heart?   I have no mind and you don’t mind that.  But you do set mines around me.  And those are not the mines that dig me up, those are the mines that blow me up.  A sparkle here and a crackle there makes the rich more happy to dare.

              People, people, to Dare, to be one of The Ones That Flew There, the Prism of the Prison of my eye slight causes a sight which is not mine and definitely not in its prime.  It calls me a Primate to my face but it calls me an Ape to it’s rich folk friends.  As if rich folk can act like friends to anybody.

              Here I am now, my arms are scratched and my head is full of bumps but at least I am the least, and the most lost,  as I loop the most. 

              I finally realized that with my art, I don’t make sense.  But, people,  when I dart, they sure think I make a lot of scents.  And if I don’t part from you, I won’t make any cents.

 

                                           Some people say it is better to vent.

                                           I feel I am better than Advent.

                                           I just keep getting taken to my advantage.

                                           I’m glad I am at my Advanced Age.

                                           Life sure is in a cage.

                                           Stop your rage.

                                           That’s enough of this venture!

                                                      I Like To Write                                                                                                                                              I Hope You Like To Read                                                                                                                              Some Of My STUFF

Moons Not On Mars But Visited By Mars

 

Honeymooners in Space

Universe 14, Planet 47                           

47th Chapter of the Stellar Bus

 

 

 

              “I recently landed in this Valles Marineris.  Valles Marineris.  Valles Marineris!  So, You Came to Valles Marineris to Me!  The Colossal Canyon on Mars!  The Arean of Antares.  And as you guys come on board, and please don’t be bored, card board, cart beard, or otherwise, and I’m the wise one, the one who won, and in this space bus, you’ll be flung.  All you guys and gals.  And Gallons of you.   Mr. Fructose and Ms Glucose.  Along with  your neighbors, the Potassiums.  And don’t forget those friendly Ferrums.  I am picking up all of you Phenolic Compounds.  You sure are sweet together.  And to think, they call me, Ralph and Alice and Ed and Trixie, ‘The Honeymooners!’  Well, you sure try to be Sweet as I drive you, and that is not ‘hive you’, and not just off the wall but to the various Moons orbiting Jupiter.  I’ll drop you off at Metis and you will ooze and drip and drop all the way to Harpalyke.

              “And I won’t intentionally pitch you into a hamper.  If you stink, you stink up into your own nose.  I wouldn’t try to smell you anywhere; I have enough trouble trying to put up with myself.

              “I’ve loaded Robots and Talc Knots and All Slots of Paid Cots so don’t believe that You are Unknown to Me.  Martian Bees are now suppose to pay up for you.  This buy cycle chain will forklift you to your paid for seats and sleeping walled in areas along the length of this space bus.

              “This company, that I claim is happy to pay me, is called the Omnibus Diverter, with a bunch of their operators, and they sure act like we enjoy working for them, and that is again and again, if you ask ‘When.’  They are the United Field Hyperbolics fleet of mass transportational devices.  Someone keeps sending spending patrons and various materialized matters across what is called various regions, solar and otherwise, where I call space, it might be known to you as ‘Outer Space’  as you can be out and still.

              “I am your driver, Ralph Kramden.  I bolt you along to the moons and these many moons, with apparent partner here, Ed Norton, who unplugs toilets if he keeps up.  He once was called   an Astro Physician, or maybe he orbited his own graveness less than your gravity.  In case, or in your chase,  you think you are flew by doubles, your flues are joined with my wife Alice and Odd Eddie’s wife, Trixie.

              “Since you can afford, Welcome Aboard.”

              Ed then poked Ralph in his giant ribs and said "Duality is not a story. Duality is just a complexity."

              Alice whispered, “Life, like poker has an element of risk. It shouldn't be avoided. It should be faced."

              That caused one of the thinking being beings loaded from the Red Planet’s hives to say, “When the tides of life turn against you... just lay on your back and float."

              Ed agreed, "When the tides of life turn against you, and the current upsets your boat. Don't waste those tears on what might have been, I just lay on my back and float." (this is A sewer motto for calm in crisis).”

              Another metallic entry person said to Ralph, “You got a very interesting story here.  It seems like a story of a man doomed to six months to live. Why don't you do like a friend of mine did? He had the hiccups for three weeks, and he sold his story to a Mercury visitor. You know, the Astrology Weekly? He got $5,000 for it. He became a neutron who gravitated to solar electrons.”

              That got Alice to point out, “Well Ralph, I guess we're just hangnails on the fickle finger of fate."

              Ralph agreed, “ I have - I've got an explanation. A perfect one. I'm a dope. Not a run-of-the-mill dope, the universe's champ. For years I've been talking for granite the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me - you. I've never shown you the cosmic interception you deserve, Alice. You could walk outta that solar circle right now and I wouldn't blame you. You deserve something better than me. There are a million guys who'd give you anything if they could have a girl like you.”

              Alice smiled and said, “ Ralph, I don't want a million. There's just one guy I want.  You.”

              Ralph blushed,  “Baby, you're the gravitationalist.”

              Then Ed Norton said  “Hey, Ralph, what's the normal temperature, around 98, ain't it?        Ralph Kramden growled,  “ 98.6. Ed Norton! What would you say a bad temperature?”

              That’s when Ed said, “Facing extreme temperature swings, from scorching heat in direct sunlight (hundreds of degrees Celsius) to frigid cold in shadow (near absolute zero, -270°C / -454°F) due to the lack of atmosphere to regulate heat, with the average baseline being the Cosmic Microwave Background (CMB) at about 2.7 Kelvin. Spacecraft use advanced insulation, reflective coatings, and active cooling systems (like circulating water) to manage these vast temperature differences and protect equipment and astronauts from these extremes.”

              That caused Ralph to say,  “If any of these Space Tycoons ever got sick, it'd be my responsibility to go and visit them.”

              Alice broke in, “Oh, that is a very important responsibility, Ralph. You better start now and find out what the visiting hours are at the Aurora Borealis.”
              To which Ralph responded “That did it, Alice - that did it. You have just broken the comet's black with that telescope. You have ridiculed my bordering space satellites. You have just made fun of something very big that's close to my heart.”

              And Alice replied, “The only thing big that's to eclipse any stars is your stomach.”

              Then an entering paid passenger said, “Based on that, they extrapolated the number of small moons that should be orbiting Jupiter, arriving at the 600 number. There are two categories of moons: regular and irregular. While regular moons form by accretion of material in a disk, the same way planets do, why do irregulars are captured objects?”

              Ralph answered him, “If you have it and you know you have it, then you have it. If you have it and don't know you have it, you don't have it. If you don't fire off your rocket, but you think you orbit it, then you have it.”

              And Ralph dropped off droplets of honey at Adsrastea, Amalthea, Mneme, Euanthe and about sixty others.  Finally, Ed said, “"If my wife Trixie is watching at the projection screen, and when I get back, she says 'I told ya so!', I'm gonna get belted right in the mouth!”

                                                                             I liked writing this                                                                                                                                         I hope you liked reading this                                                                                                                         I also hope you like reading THESE

School Directs Me Down The Hall, Down And Down I Go

 

                             Johnny, your Pa has no headroom

                             He sure snores like a pest

                             And Johnny, your Pa fills up our gloom

                             He brings us all Down in his nest

                             All we can tell is

                             That we sure ain’t blessed

 

              Life has gotten sure wonderful lately.  I now wonder if I am still alive.  I wonder if I ever was alive. I’d like to wander, fully.  Wander fully away from here.  I started my life here.  I grew up here.  I started to get educated here, if you can call that an education.  I don’t think I learned anything.  All of us were just told to memorize and do what we were told.  Do what we memorized.  But I could not memorize.  I could work my mind to figure out what I needed to do. But the kids that would do something from their memorization, they sure didn’t know or care about the reactions of here to there that was needed to do what they were told to do.  The directors of our activities, in and around the classrooms, said, “You are good.” To those kids that did not see or think about what happened to the other pieces of life on and around and touched by what they were told to do.

              There was this kid who had a great short term memorization ability.  He did many great short term memorizations.  The  teacher would have us read a chapter of a literary book and on the third chapter the teacher would ask us to spell a specific word from the first chapter.  He would do it and the teacher would mark down that he did it.  When I was asked, if it wasn’t a word involved in the activity that I knew and physically, actionally supported in my life, minutes ago or weeks ago or years ago, I would take a guess at the spelling and many times I would get it wrong.  The teacher would mark down in her book that I was not good with spelling and she would have me walk up to the front blackboard  and write the correctly spelled word twenty times.

              After class was over, and we were walking down the hall to the next hour’s learnings, that spelling honor student tapped my back and told me, “I make life easier than ever!”  Some of the around students clapped.  One of the mean guys pushed me out of the way and said to him, “You never make life easy!  You need to Exercise! For you, Gym is Toxic.  When you speak that sure is sonic!”

              While he was being laughed at, the smart guy asked, “Could you spell what I had to say?”

              And the bully said, “Nope, but I can sure smell what you had Tuesday!”

              Then another kid from the ones walking to class asked the smart guy, “Who are you?

I bet you are Ivan.  And you’ll ask me, ‘Ivan Who?’  And I’ll answer you, ‘Ivan Hoe.’  And again, all we get are ‘How How How?’”

              Then another kid laughed, “He sure makes a lot of Howls.”

              Another one said, “That’s the king of the Spruce.  Spruce?  Spruce!   Spruce are the Mints you shred around here.”

              And another one went, “Blue Mist here, Clue Less there.  Hear a jerk? They’re some jerks.  Ever walk where Jerks Work?”

              An algebra teacher then pointed his ruler at us and commanded, “All your classes start on time.  Go!  And Go!  And Go!”

              My mind went completely blank.  I began thinking that this is the second snow off the season seasons, and us humans have to work for some rat king who dug a hole to our universe.  Black Hole, Wack Whole, Smack All, Snack Call.  When I die you need another eye to get those snake eyes on your dice move.

              It’s like Marching Maraschinos. Marching maestros.  Here they come a mashing up machine parts to fight me.

              And then some sixth grader wacked me with the portable stop sign that he uses to direct the students who actually go to class, directing them down the three aisled hall.  There are Kindergarteners who go there.  First through sixth graders also go there.  Seventh and Eighth graders walk down the middle.

              I’ve learned that these doors  on the hall corner bathrooms are generally open so the teachers can yell in them to stop kids from smoking.  The school library has an entry door and an exit door.  You cannot enter with anything other than notebooks and a pencil.  You can exit only after going through the line where the teacher records the books or computer records of what you need to study for your classes.

              I like the art class room.  It is in the same room as the science room.  Art on some time of the day.  Science at another time of the day.  With the way my memory is, when I grow up, I will think that Science is an Art Form.  Or is it Art needs a lot of Science?  This is for the Seventh and Eighth graders.  Their teacher either has the students paint on canvas or mix chemicals together that would burn their hands if they were not careful.

              I guess I will just have to  walk down the hallway from where I sit at the beginning of school in my assigned home room to the English class when that first bell rings so I can learn nouns and verbs and how to use adjectives and adverbs.  These are the objectives we were all told to have.  Well, I certainly object to that.  Obviously, my brain cannot observe adverbs when they obtuse from all the abuse I get.  It’s just another tooth decaying from the truth.  So, I boot both booths.

 

                                                                                   I liked writing this                                                                                                                                         I hope you like reading some of THESE

We Are All Together, Even Though Our Electrons Are Not In Our Protons

 

              A long time ago, I worked with other human beings.  I considered the animals in my way and along with me, to be part of what makes up my life.  I eventually realized that ‘In My Way’ is also ‘Along With Me.’  I, also, eventually understood that there are chemicals such as silicon and oxygen that make up the fluorides and aluminum nitrates that shape up, make up, and sometimes shake up the sandstones that direct and sometimes dictate my walking and keeps me from some ways.  I am not the only one who does this.  I have friends that realize microwave transmissions are parts of their breathes and radioactive ionic walls make up their thoughts and particles of words.  There are so many friends out there.  They may like me.  They may hate me.  They may not even notice me, made up or not.  But any one, thing, nothing living with me is a friend.  I have to tell myself.

              These days, the people I work with act friendly towards me when we walk into each other in the hall or ask where they are on projects that we both work on.  I act friendly towards them when I attempt to park in the company’s parking lot and when our boss introduces new finishes we need to do or directs us on how to respond to possible and not possible customers.

              People, I’ve got to keep telling myself, my friends are not me.  But then, I am not my friends.  We are individuals.  We do not know what our friends want or need or feel.  But then, I don’t really understand all my wants.  I cannot interpret and react livingly to my feelings.  We all have thoughts and wants and do deeds.

              Back when I was growing up, I had to act friendly towards fellow students. Fellow students riding their bicycles, because I wore my patrol boy belt and kept track of the stop sign, cars in the streets.  A bunch of fellow students walked the sidewalks to learn at school.  When I was growing up other students acted friendly towards me, well when we had to walk through the aisles to pay attention in our classes and when them and me had to sit at the same table as a bunch of mes, such as when we were told to eat our lunches.

              To myself, I looked at them and disbelieved, but I had my own thoughts, words, and interests.  I had to learn that they had their own thoughts, words, and intentions too.  They, all of them, individually of them, they looked, smelled, and emotionally reacted to heat, smoothness, and interactions according to what their own electron communicating areas of their, each our own, brains, bodies, and what we called and call now “THOUGHTS”.

              My mind began calling my neighbors, my fellow students, my teachers, even my parents, ANIMALS.  My realizations came that squirrels keep scratching around my back door.  Rabbits hopped along the yard, slowing up and digging where I had my chair or where I walked.  I looked at spiders but did and still do not despise them.  I hit rolled up newspapers on mosquitoes.  I cached flies in my hands and fed them to my turtles.  All that stuff is alive and has feelings and thoughts and none of us are the same.  Even the modules in the waters, cells growing in puddles.  Each and every one of us things are things, even if we are parts of other things.  We have to exist with each other we do not feel, see, or understand what any of us others thought, worded, done, do, will do.  That must be my will because I think I do it.  I think you think too but I cannot think as you think.

              My down the street neighbor said there’s a possible new planet in our solar system.  In my feeling, from the heat and bumps coming out of my mind, I sense there is no new planet in our solar system.  And that tells me that your solar system is not the same one as my solar system, but was I told by words?  Systems are as systems don’t.  Do drawings hold up to my eyes?  Is sleepiness the cuddling of what I think is my head?

              When I was in the grocery store the other day, I was buying my weekly and low current amounts at home of different items.  I looked at oranges but I no longer like them because my blood has too much sugar.  I really do like them but I tell myself I do not like them.  I bought white bread because my brain does not like it when my tongue likes cinnamon swirl bread with all that good tasting sweetness in it.

              Finally, once when I was watching TV, I realized that I liked old time shows.  But did I like them or dislike the newer ones?  I asked myself, “Am I really watching these shows or is my mind making up what I tell myself is funny or interesting and some sense of myself is telling me that that is what I heard or saw?”    Do you smell TV?  Does your neighbor feel the magnetic waves of their favorite radio show?

              Life went on as I walked to school when my neighbor third grader flew his multi dimensional space copter to his classroom.  I ran my chalky finger on the black board to answer questions that my toes observed from the Salt Stalactites that Stalagmite have their own individual brains, but I don’t think they are individuals, or is oxygen doing the thinking for me, and forcing me to claim it is my mind because of what they do to us  who claim we are living beings. What Might Might but this existence is full of Mites.

              Bee me here and Bee my hair because my heirs heard me before the Ice Glaciers herded me. You might have seen the rain but with my slight, I’ve seen me reign. Then, again, compared to my Sun, I’m not too bright. And if you go ultra, violence or violet, my tooth is bright.

              Be my neighbor as she sheds some music to my ears, when she thinks she is painting a wall mural.  The electrons in my joint muscles distract and disobey the magenta of the local police.  Magna Cart Me Off.  It is their policy, not my polished Ice, See.  And when you Sea it again, it will bee another Ice Berge.

                                                      I hope you have a good year                                                                                                                          I hope you like reading this                                                                                                                            I hope you will read some of THESE