Psilocybin silly when the
cops arrive.
Sitting on the couch naked,
laughter, aching jaws.
They ask where my wallet is?
I ask, where are my pants?
Even they laugh.
I can't say mushrooms are
all bad.
They are the catalysts that
brought me back to the
hospital to deal with the
real killer...
*****.

Low-born, lowly,
lumbered, plebian
mushrooms, steal and
take, their final gasp.
 Before, a fastly approaching,
 Babylonian Avalanche. Where, lined up, thinly, ivoried-blue, are petulant
       pigs. That, usually; sniff out, lick, arr-
             est and lock up; black, brown and
               white truffles. The unguilty

              are apprehended. For false,
             treasonous reasons. So, who
            can blame the fungis, for wanting
       to seize, the cult of vulturous swines?
     By; the scruff of the system, and br-
   eak their snouts, until, their peccaried
      feathers are ruffled? The champignon,
     were; hewed and chewed, aplenty. By;

    hoggish, gnarled teeth, curled trotters
    and lavish appetites. But, those that  
   fell, to the Babylonian Avalanche, will,
  eventually, become a Mushroom Cloud.
 They'll float over, the 50, fuzzy, boarish
 corpses, to stellar, toadstool plateaus. When, their; final, pixie dust; they bite.

© poormansdreams

Frisbee flies
Like a UFO.

Blue skies.

A tic-tac-toe
Of them trails
Called chem trails.

Nanoaliens hatch.

A wonky throw—
He makes the catch!

They've been
monkeying
around with
my town, when
I wasn't looking.
The space and
landmarks have
been shifted.
Something is
cooking in the air.
It smells ultra
bright, with a
hint of juniper
berries.

Even, the kittens
are sitting up on
their haunches and
taking notice.

Some say,
laughter is the
best medicine.
While I have
found that to
be true, it's
become so
cliche.
An axiom I now
live by is that
mushrooms are
the best medicine.
Perception's door opens
wide, and my jaw aches
with laughter.
I can taste blue and
green, and hear
tulips sing lovely
ballads for the
squirrels that have
forgotten where they
buried their nuts.
I train my poems like
circus bears.
They rarely maul me.
And, just between
you and me,
The Birth of
Venus painting that
hangs above my
writing desk vibrates and
pulsates like the
Gulf of Mexico.
That red headed
temptress dances
seductively, long into
the night.
And now,
my kittens think
it's funny to
meow backwards.

I was walking through the woods,
As I was passing a pine tree,
I noticed in the needles on ground,
The cap’s of a few mushrooms, just staring at me
Realizing, it was late in the season, i moved some needles,
My curiosity, made me take a peek to see,
From my Shroomology experiences, of the past,
I could verify that these were edible mushrooms indeed.
I pulled a few from the ground, they were fresh,
The blanket of needles providing warmth,
Protecting them from a freeze,
I was getting a little hungry, so I took a sample taste,
Remembering, home grown vegetables were good for me.
I was sitting on a hollow log, watching a beautiful sun set,
To the west, waving goodbye, to me,
Enjoying the colorful streaks, in the sky,
Then I felt the log move, under me,
I heard some leaves making noise at the end, of the log,
As I turned my head to investigate, I saw,
Two of the biggest racoon eyes, you may ever see,
I then realized, I was an unexpected, house guest,
So to show appreciation, I shared some of the mushrooms,
I had with me, he nibbled on a few, then ran away,
Not having nothing important to do, I turned around on the log,
To watch the sun rise in the East,
Then I felt something, holding the back of, my jacket,
It felt like a crazy beast, to my surprise, it was the racoon,
His eyes, even larger, as if something scared him, off his feet,
I calmed him down, then he sat on the log, we watched,
The rising sun over the trees, to the East, then he started,
Crawling back into the log, he winked, I said, thanks for the feast.

The original: Tom Maxwell c 12/15/23 A.D.

There’s a new bird in the garden
A call I haven’t heard before.
I dream of beavers, incongruous and out of place.
Dam-building swimmers with no tails.

In a field nearby crows shout their business
I saw the planting there yesterday
A strong woman soring up the earth against the seedlings.

I spend too much on small-***** organic chickens.
Forage mushrooms righteously
Whilst wondering if they’ll make us sick.
I try to get it right
Over and over again

Psilocybin silly when the
cops arrive.
Sitting on the couch naked,
laughter aching jaws.
They ask where my wallet is?
I ask, where my pants are?
Even they laugh.
I can't say mushrooms are
all bad.
They are the catalyst that
brought me back to the
hospital to deal with the
real killer...
*****.

When I met you, I was on magic mushrooms.
or maybe I wasn't.
but either way, the moment we made eye contact things began to swirl-
and the world became candy-colored.

things are grey now.