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The mushroom
The unfolding

instant of creation (fertilisation)
not an instant separate from breakfast
It all flows down & out, flowing

but that instant:
not fire & fusion (fission) but a moment
of jellied ice, crystal, vegetative mating
merging in cool slime splendour
a crushing of steel & glass & ice

(instant in a bar; glasses clash, clink, collide)

far-out splendour

heat & fire are outwards signs of a
Small dry mating
~~~

event in a room
event in space
a circle
Magic rite
To call up the godhead
spirits, demons
The shaman calls:
“When radio dark night…”
We are eating each other.
~~~

The Voice of the Serpent
dry hiss of age & steam
& leaves of gold
old books in ruined
Temples
The pages break like ash

I will not disturb
I will not go

Come, he says softly

an old man appears &
moves in tired dance
amid the scattered dead
gently they stir
~~~

I received an Aztec wall
of vision
& dissolved my room in
sweet derision
Closed my eyes, prepared to go
A gentle wind inform’d me so
And bathed my skin in ether glow
~~~

Drugs are a bet w/ your mind
~~~

The cigarette burn’d
my fingertips
& dropp’d like a log
to the rug below
My eyes took a trip
to dig the chick
Crouch’d like a cat
at the next window
My ears assembled music
out of swarming streets
but my mind rebelled
at the idiot’s laughter
The rising frightful idiot laughter
Cheering an army of
vacuum cleaners
~~~

Mouth fills w/taste of copper.
Chinese paper. Foreign money. Old posters.
Gyro on a string, a table.
A coin spins. The faces.

There is an audience to our drama.
Magic shade mask.
Like the hero of a dream, he works for us,
in our behalf.

How close is this to a final cut?

I fall. Sweet blackness.
Strange world that waits & watches.
Ancient dread of non-existence.

If it’s no problem, why mention it.
Everything spoken means that,
it’s opposite, & everything else.
I’m alive. I’m dying.
~~~

1st wild thrush of fear

-A phone rings
There is a knock on the door.
It’s time to go.
No.
 Mar 2014 Lightbulb Martin
Evynne
Sometimes I feel like one of the books that sit on my bookshelf
Having yet to be read
Obtained long ago only to be immediately put away again
Forgotten
Lost amongst the others
Acquiring more and more dust as more and more time passes
And I wonder
Will anyone ever pick me up?
And delve into the words and worlds I hold deep inside
Fall in love with my tattered pages
And feel sad once they have read me cover to cover
Only to end up re-reading me again and again
Trying desperately to discover something new
To come back to me and flip through my pages
Returning to the underlined phrases
And reflecting upon the notes in the margins
Falling in love all over again
Will I ever become someone's favorite book?
One that will no longer be lost amongst the others
No longer long to be held
To be known
Will anyone ever love me so much
They will tirelessly read me over and over again
And never grow bored
Never grow tired
Carry me with them everywhere they go
Love me so much they will
Never leave me alone to gather dust again
Bowed smirk
Arches and looses
Into redolent heart

Your rogue smile
Stained my blouse
Lilting membrane into dye
Shallow pools rendered deep
Inundated

And thusly, mottled heart sank
Drawing lung chords in
Evinced exhale
Yeah, we kiss sometimes.
No , sorry we kiss all the time.

He does hold my hand.

Sometimes he even says I love you.

He's my boyfriend... Because I was single.

I'm his now all because of you.

I was single cuz you broke up with me You broke up with me cuz you didn't want me You didn't want me cuz you were all done with me "for now."

You were the one Jumping into freedom

and then you drowned in it.

You were so excited to be "single" that you forgot your fear of being alone.

You swore it wasn't over.

Please Tell Me what you meant by "Let's Break Up"

Please Tell Me what the month of silence and ignorance meant to you.

Please Tell Me how "I just can't do this anymore" translates to anything but "We're all done here."

Please Tell Me why your words speak a different language that only you have the dictionary for.

Please don't tell me it was all temporary
because your words were dripping with tears of permanence.

Don't tell me it wasn't supposed to last.

I didn't know Good Bye was synonymous for I love you.

Because in my dictionary
Love is a Verb
and Those actions and your words do not hold up.

They're flimsy in the wind blown by the hot air you blow around.

They crumbled under my feet as I trudged on to a future where good-bye Bleeds and Love
is Sore from all of the deeds it performs.

You can swear love up and down the walls of your new home

But I've come to realize your words are more temporary than our parting ever was.

You only meant for...

meant for...
meant for...
meant for...

Oh that's right you only meant for me to wait patiently

You only meant for me to stay frozen with the smile that you could tell was really empty without you.

Well News Flash: My Heart Takes Up Rooms

Since you're so much smarter and wiser you know that matter can neither be created nor destroyed

and the Explosion only spreads it further.

So I hope this means you understand that
This Heart is painted on your walls and
This Heart is spattered over your memory and
This Heart gives a love that infects and
This Heart is too busy pumping divinity into this world that it will

Never leave me empty.

It will Never be me who jumped too soon over a threshold that wasn't there.
It will Never be me who left something behind that I couldn't afford to lose.

No it will Never be me who put the live ******* the backburner only to see she has crawled away while I brewed a new life for myself.

Stop You Say?
Stop You Say?
Wait You Say?

Wait for What, I ask.

For Simon to say Freeze?
For Simon to say Hold?
For Simon to say Pause?
Notice Simon never says Please.

Well I'm here to ask you, who the **** made you Simon?

Who made you the banker in the monopoly on who could live my life.

I think your ears heard the wrong thing when I held your hand and said

You were it.

I should have known better but then again
I didn't know we were playing a game.

But as always, the games have concluded and I ask Where's Your Medal, My Dear?

Is it under the new clothes that you've decided are your style now?

Is it hiding under her tongue?

Is it Wrapped around that bottle that you swore you'd never touch.

Are they in the eyes of the New friends you've known forever.

Sorry... 6 Months.

Well Pardon me for not being blinded at the Shimmer of your Participation Medal

But I'm too busy holding the purple heart you left me with.

I'm too busy weaving Gold into the fingers of my loved ones.

I'm wrapping a gold chain around his neck as a new promise that we will both win Together

A Sign of a Team Rather than Opponents.

Do tell me why, though, that you felt a need to win when I never wanted to keep score in the First Place.

It all gets so vicious in between those "Temporary" Words and False Actions.

Let this be a Lesson.

Watch your words closely.

Don't Let them run away with you because one day they might tattoo themselves into your shoulder.

That Chip that you can Never brush off.

And then it won't matter if you said them in Flowery Purple Wording because those words will be the ones that Scar you.

Purple will look a lot like defeat
And You'll understand that the
Tin you've traded your Gold for is corroding before you.

Please Do excuse me for mining for a more precious action to go with Love

Pardon my resistance to swallow your false intentions.

Please Forgive me But I Need to

Go Live My Life.
I think I might be allowed one bitter break up poem.
I love old school motorbikes and their purring sound as they emit fragrances which trigger animosity and innocence.
It’s a total eclipse of the heart, don’t you think?
*******, Lunatics, Undesirables and Eccentrics. That is the essential nature of angelic blue.
Forget those polished ambassadors of what is deemed to be contemporary.
Chop it up, Chewbacca, whilst spanners are thrown with obscene articulations.
It has been said that my father violently placed a bike in the canal.
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