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mark soltero Sep 29
the hues of black
of the object in front of me
closely vibrates each shade of the spectrum of worldly colors
showing them self
they warn me
their caution to better my own
the chemical begins to gnaw at my ego
the green hallway to nowhere in my brain
where the monsters chased me as a child
where I’d run to hide away
seem endless
terror doesn’t live here
flashes of LEDs shining through the bottles of mezcal next to mescaline laying on the table
remind me you don’t live there
listen to the sounds of a voice you don’t want to hear
block out that **** you say
god I don’t even know
what day is it?
idk im bored is this ugly
Ken Pepiton Sep 6
Past the last of the acidity, augmented by the fire two valleys west…
woke to wonder where am I to aim
my self
My being me being made of all roles I ever play

Today, is marked a day in a week in a month and year
on a spreadsheet maintained
by several orders of attitude HR magnitude, cults of clerks, used
minds and bodies, stacked in edified
piles…

as quanta of thought, bits of ever left in now as hints,
things to come are made of ever lasting stuff,
word of truth, my self is sworn to tell,

test me if I lie.
But {but, but} in thy mercy, not thy wrath lest I perish
and only id, or another ******-enomen for evers what was, remains
a role, an act, remaining after the ocean of opinions I was on evaporates,
after I am evilized as egoically selfish,
I,
my self, too highly thought of,
for far too long a time.

Yes, {yes, yes} that, too, has passed, re
do the re,
there we were awakened, with a Jolt Cola realization,
life is a game,
we make up, as children can, if you recall
the child you were when thinking as a child may, at play.

This is the day we form a man in the realm of self I am
and, if you take my word as truth,

you take the ability to sponder, eh? First, you ask, re
is the author authorized to utter truths hid
since the foundation of realit-ifity, as we
imagine
in preparation, for the game, Life,
but not the Milton- Bradley version, this
2020 Life on Earth.
The game. Made plain, a board game.
The self, aware of teachers standing silent, but prepared.
Ask, and, truly, as if true, answers appear.

Choose. Do. {winning loss of confusion points, line by line}
Rules and Regulations,
Scepter and Orb,
Rod and Staff,
Crook and Flail, same-same seen signs of higher power…

long ago, far away, prior to these tools we use, you read
I wrote,
we imagined, in our minds visual mode, we see as if true,
a we we may be if we agree,
and
follow the hold of the symbols of power,
respect the symbols, look once more re-see the revealed,
veiled since God knows when, but {yes, yes}
more knowable now than ever,
that which fell to the earth,
sowed light. That's right… here come d' judge.

If I find a little light, and in my mind, I let - let it go - let,
until the letters be taken out of the way
and meaning forms from informative
matters of fact, impossible.

Ah, Jah, ya *** old and feeble, after a while.
So it seems, says the weigher of any word's worth,

accounted for idolized words, holy, sacred, secret troothz…

abound, Bounce bounce tic
to Rube Goldberg goes the metaphoric prize, proof.

Plan the action, pre-form the plan, practical failure, of course,
is unthinkable after careful thought,
critical thinking and un-come-on skepticism of sophist teknhe.

****, up in smoke.
All the attention ever paid to any single thought,
shhhh shushing in the cold, absence of heat,

too cool to live, longer.
Pop.

Turn the page, scroll the screen, ignore the parts of reality
behind your focus forward receptor circuitry
winding round and round,
past at most fears sold at half the attention cost.

Pay hell for your wish, or accept the fuel to fire up one
thought candle in the flicking arena,
I think I am visible,
I feel lucified.

I can kick the ball, I know, this time…

Ah, Charlie Brown, your social significance is history.
Echos, formed from yes-t'day, blended with an OKGO binge followed by boyos dis--cursing Zatrathustra.
Eli Apr 23
A face in numbers
Larger than.
Darker than a night,
But brighter than.

I am on drugs
While Mother Earth is on something stronger

Everything is a layer of something
Everything is a stroke

I wanted to go out
Discouraged much?

I'm just here growing new traits about me,
Like a tree
LDP Apr 1
I waltzed on the dance floor with Ellie,
Hands around her waist,
Her face buried in my neck.
She smelt of sweet honey,
Soft to the taste,
But such a warm and beautiful wreck.
Our love was something else,
We were the delicate fragrant roses
That grew from concrete.
When I taste her under my tongue,
The room turns quiet,
Colours brighten,
And there’s finally some peace.
From my newest collection, "Sober".
Lilly F Jan 27
breathe me in like the drugs you take,
hold me like the cigarette between your lips,
dream of me like I'm the lsd you take before bed,
stare at me with your bloodshot eyes,
while you slur your words at me,
and reach out for me with your shaky hands,
I'll always be here for you
and that's what keeps me up at night,
waiting for you to come back again


© L.F.
Ali Oct 2019
one day i took lsd
my famished soul drank all it could see
i sought answers, maybe god
but horror upon horror was all i got

i woke up to the realization that
i was responsible for everything bad
guilt and pain and fear consumed me
beaten down by my ego's contumely

the mind is truly a wicked place
it can twist your world, contort your face
staring down the devil, the reflection in his eyes
gives away the mirror upon which his visage relies

t'was myself i feared the most
the ephemeral glimpse of a lurking ghost
the screams from hell echoing near
but they existed nowhere beyond my ear
Sara Kellie Oct 2019
Her saturate beauty
in violet black light.
The narcotic consent
some Saturday night.
Colours are bleeding
a vivid dream night.
Lysergic Acid Diethylamide,
Right?

A sleep pattern paisley
purple and green.
Faceless adversaries
heard, yet unseen.
A motionless panic,
unable to run.
Contorted, curled fingers,
now, isn't this fun.
The ups and downs of an
LSD ******.
Homunculus Jul 2019
Twisted tales come surging
From a mind writhing and purging
In an oft fomented urging
For expressions, pure and raw
That fight repressions, lure and claw
Their way up to the surface
To effect a sense of purpose
But it's really all just worthless. . .
That's, unless you think it's not!
But if you don't: Your brain might rot!
Your skin might bubble, blood might clot
Leaving you heaving bile and snot
Or maybe phlegm and sputum
So your mental stores, you loot 'em
Load these rhymes up and you shoot 'em
Into repressed regression's mains
Into depressed suppression's veins
Until they sing a glad refrain
Of being decoagulated
Platelets become agitated
Now the blood is circulated
And the brain that hibernated
Has awakened from its slumber
Now it ponderously lumbers
With intentions unencumbered
Gotta do it by the numbers
So, them synapses start firin'
Them cortices start wirin'
And belly full of fire sings
Of jelly beans and tire swings
Of silly schemes and flyer wings
On foul mouthed little parrot,
Owners ***** laundry, airs it
Polly want a *******?
Just a snack sir?
But old Polly sez:
"**** me harder, Álvarez!"
Look aghast, her husband Ted:
"Oh hell no *****, 'cause that's the bed
that both we AND our children sleep in!
you've got Latin Lovers creepin'?"

She vacates the bedroom weepin'
Well . . . that took a drastic turn
To dwellings where disasters churn
So silly, will we ever learn
Or for mere want of learning, yearn?

(Tom, to himself: Go eat food. . . .)
(Tom, back to himself: Good idea!)

I think he left, but I'm still near
As tattered, scattered writing, dear!
So, read me well and read me clear,
And bring some friends to visit here!
(Paraphrase of System of a Down song from 2001 tour) I'm on drugs! I'm on drugs! Iiiiiiii am on DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm on drugs! I'm on drugs! Iiiiiiii am on DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!! Doooooooooo yoouuuuuuuu like DRUGS? Iiiiiiiiiiiii ammmmm DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" But so are you, really. You drank coffee today, didn't you? AHA! Caught you right in the act! Case closed. . . .
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