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lifeonLSD Nov 2018
i hold you
my heart

these walls
are breathing

the corners
the essence

the knots
unfolded by
the presence

the veins
onto dear

the blood
to your ever

the same force
turning on
the light

will follow
each shadow
into dark

  and if it all

if the world
falls apart

that i hold you

as you are
within my heart
lifeonLSD Nov 2018
A bow around the present

everything else is a gift
lifeonLSD Nov 2018
I never felt more in awe
of the beauty in the elements
while each drop
watered my soul into existence

A spectrum of rays
opening in visions of releave
and release

Pouring in sweet appreciations
for the welcomed reminder
that i am alive
allowing the flowers
                     to once more
                             grow from my mind
  Nov 2018 lifeonLSD
Pagan Paul
The hypotenuse stretched
as far as the eye could see,
across a vast lateral plain
an horizon mathematically perfect.
And yet …
In the main square of the hypotenuse
the town crier bellowed out tidings.
The Triangle Triumvirate was unstable,
the discovery, nay re-discovery,
of the Mystery, the most horrific of Mysteries,
the Mystery of the missing

Dweeb was a box standard barbarian.
Quick to anger, slow of wit.
Like last night at dinner.
He had Three potatoes, his sister had Four.
He shouted and thumped the table,
his angry voice expunging his ire.
Then his sister had explained,
to calm and reassure him.
Three was more than Four
because it had Five letters in it.
And Five is more than Four.
He thought about his axe,
then about his abacus,
and then he ate his spuds.

The Fourth-Side drifted in spacial isolation.
Of course now it wasn't a Side.
Being attached to nothing, it was just a line,
but it had some tricks.
It could coil and curl itself
to form rude words in joined up writing.
It floated on reminiscing,
about the **** angles it had made
with all its previous adjacent lovers.
The memory caused spasms
and it formed into a rude word
that should never ever be written down.

Teena, Dweeb's sister, vomited.
She had kissed a puppy,
and was being sick in the morning,
was she pregnant?
But, it was never a puppy, always a stork.
He mum had told her, warned her
'never kiss an errant stalk'.
Her mum died of the pox, whatever that is.
Something clicked in her head.
Oh! Stork and stalk!
Well they do sound the same,
especially in a harsh barbarian accent.
But the puppy had sneezed
as she had kissed it goodnight.
She thought about her axe.
And then she threw up again.

Equations to be solved #7
Vlad the Impaler was a Barbarian
Vlad the Impaler was a Libra
Dracula was a Librarian?

Right Angle was worried.
Duly so.
If the Fourth-Side Mystery was solved
he'd have three other Right Angles to deal with,
instead of a sixty and a thirty.
The Triangle Triumvirate would cease.
An intense Quadrilateral Mexican stand-off
would ruffle his perfect two-seventy external.
He had to divert attention away,
far, far away, from the Fourth-Side.
By Jove he had it! Bingo!
Let them try to solve
the Mystery of
The Back-Side.

Dweeb loved winding up his sister.
So he hid her puppy in a box.
But now he was worried.
Was the puppy still alive?
Or dead? Or both?
This may sound like a ****** ****** question
but where did that last thought come from?
Yes what?
Yes, it was a ****** ****** question!

Teena though it very strange.
When she rang the dinner Triangle
the cat sat on the mat,
Curiouser and curiouser.
Conditioned response or learnt behaviour?
Teena dismissed the thought line,
she didn't ask ****** ****** questions.

It had no idea
about its status as a Mystery.
The Fourth-Side has issues.
Complicated issues.
It had somehow conspired
to tie itself in a knot.
And spacial isolation had become crowded.
Missing links everywhere, the sofa of time,
excommunicated integers, 1970's wallpaper,
it all floated about in spacial isolation.
Above all Fourth-Side was intensely agitated.
Couldn't anyone quieten that yapping puppy?

© Pagan Paul (06/11/18)
My psychedelic washing machine mind on spin cycle!
lifeonLSD Nov 2018
the one that is fed
the food of thought
to the one taken home
will be there untill death
has collected its parts

seperated by birth
it’s reclaimed and renowned
perished, saturated
burried in the dirt
of fruitfull soil
freed from the hurdles
of a heart loss of hurt
lifeonLSD Nov 2018
begrijpend lezen
met ogen dicht
als braille op je huid
streel ik je
verhalen tot het geluid

je lippen verlaat
en verraad
wat men niet kan zeggen

het zal me vertellen
zonder spraak
vloeiend op de vibraties
in de lucht

zuchtend van geluk en zaligheid
verspreiden de teksten
naar plekken

die alleen de tong bereiken

als muziek
verdovend spelen met tonen
klimmend in hoogtes

waar octaven
worden gehaald in

tot weer terug beneden
zachtjes bevend
dalen naar aarde

je hete adem tegen mijn oor
legt me uit

dat het woord niet beschrijft
*** eenheid voelt

dat de sterren stralen in liefde

de puurheid
niet omschrijft

dat alleen door het ervaren
van kosmische frequenties
je pas begrijpt

wat het gefluister is
dat achter blijft hangen

als oeroude poezie
omgetoverd in universele talen
met een orgastisch bereik
gesproken in tijd
gedeeld met jou
******* heights
lifeonLSD Nov 2018
It has been a while in time

-—However not out of reach

I was trying to climb highs

-—I’d dared not before dream

The whisper that followed

-—My every step into more sorrow

Softening with thy gentle hum

-—The less of the hollow i become

Not in view but within my range

-—I’ve settled a life within a place

Stiller, the quieter the strange

-—A hymn has me filled my gaze

Covering the eyes, i have them closed

-—For it’s in the heartbeat, ye old drum

The beat swung with wings that started to sing

—I thought i recognized the song

Laying still, bathed, i bask in your suns—-

—-I absorb thy lights and the winds blow in my back

All so i can let them move me as one—-
A visit from the nightingale
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