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#fungi
Do you know of a creature - that grows unseen? A power of rupture, thinning the cap between. It lives in coldness, drought hides it, you will be impressed, It has an insect puppet. A resemblance to humans - communication weavers; the silent endurance, this creation, it whispers - "Anywhere I go, I thrive. In wind, In touch, I arrive. Yet rare, still I survive, I'm a mush - so in a room I divide." Do you know of a creature - that does not need the sun, and yet - it's alive?
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May 1
May 1, 2026 at 1:40 PM UTC
A Little Fungal Life
I lay on the ground, watching the leaves shake above me. It smells damp. Society is cruel and unaccepting, but if you lay in the forest long enough, The moss and fungi will accept you. I find comfort in the fact. I will lay here now and I wish to be put here when I'm gone, I want to live on as a part of this infinitely connected family. I want flowers to grow in my lungs replacing the air, I want my ribs to be wrapped in vines, I want fungi to grow where my thoughts used to be, I want my heart to be taken and be put to better use. I wish to be there when I’m gone. I feel this strange longing for things that don’t exist, a strange aversion to society, to normalcy, to reality. I want to disappear, to become something more than I am. I want to take off these suffocating plastic bindings on my feet and place my skin on the moist moss of the forest floor. I want to play in the river and be surrounded by greens and blues and browns, not beige and eggshell and sterile white. I want to breathe the smell of pine cones and rain, not strawberry summer paradise or mahogany teakwood vanilla. There’s something deep inside of me, engraved on the lining of my heart, burned into my lungs, drawn out through my veins, that yearns for something more than ordinary. Part of me cannot believe that this is it, that I’m confined to this mortal plane, that books are the closest I’ll ever get to an escape.
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Apr 1
Apr 1, 2026 at 12:43 PM UTC
One With the Woods
You ask me how I rise How I continue in the wake of destruction Persist when death and decay may reign in ash around me Persevere when the soil is blistered and inflamed Begin again even when I may be brittle and burned I rise because I must
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Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 10:38 AM UTC
Geopyxis Carbonaria
Oh me, oh my! A mushroom, so dandy! It’s curling head, spry Gold hues like candy Soft as a dove And medically handy What’s not to love? About a fungi so opulent? Hope is made of: Mushrooms so succulent What a lovely sight Isn’t fungi excellent?
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Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
The Joy of Mushrooms
The fungi has started to grow again, coming from inside, rotting within. My eyes scan the room from left to right, there's nothing interesting, anywhere found in sight. I remove myself to explore and play, into the forest I go, around midday. As I wander and wonder, my thoughts twist around me, causing a fluster. All of this just because of, some guy. It's not your normal fungi, it's the kind that if you touch it, it will rot you from your delicate finger tips to the very light that is your soul. The kind of fungi to ruin your night. So as I lie here, accepting my fate, that evil demon comes creeping, to smile in my face. I'm all too weak to continue on, finally letting go of myself, collapsing like a fawn. My skeletal remains, shimmer in the sun- reflecting light like the barrel of a gun. It's hard not to notice that toadstool right there, growing from what would be my hair. The fungi still loves to decay, what was once me One, Very Cold October Day.
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Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 5:04 PM UTC
The fungi.
Cockroach,  Cockroach , what are you doing in my soup, In the kitchen I was playing hoop la hoop, And I fell in you soup mister, It's hot and I am getting blisters, Scoop me with your spoon, Before I swoon. Please don't shout or scream, I will be thrown out of the kitchen of my dream, Filthy and messy, With rotten fish, slimy and smelly, Red meat in blood, And fungi on sauces and salads with mould, Never scrubbed,the kitchen, For thousands of us it's heaven. Be a pal, Go away with your gal, At least I did you a favour, Not eating in this yucky place forever. 25/6/2019
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Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 5:43 AM UTC
Caught in the Soup
I fell for a fairy, She was flower Daughter of the sun. I worship the moon, I live among fungi. A fairy that was fire I am a rat, Soaked by the moon's tears. I don't know why, But she kissed me, I dreamt of being a creature like she was, I dreamt of living in the sun Among the flowers of her back, Her wings, I dreamt. She didn't like my sadness, My insecurity, The spores growing on my skin.
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Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
I dreamt
Time turns to liquid, rolling off my tongue like molasses dripping technicolor drool, viewed through fungal lenses.
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Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:12 PM UTC
Mycelium Mind
The pitter patter of rain echos through the soil, sending a message in morse code. Biological clocks begin to turn as fungi wake from their slumber. Hyphae radiate outward, mapping the skin of the earth, a living neural network woven into the soil of the forest.
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May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 12:37 PM UTC
Fungi
I ingest the sacred fungi, my heart pounds forth anticipation For my body knows my consciousness will soon see a changing situation Such complex revelations I feel the ground beneath awaken I realize all of us are intertwined with this beautiful creation I look into my friends eye's and see me looking back I am you and you are me; sounds crazy but its fact All sharing in this collective breath the universe exhales Do you understand the implications of what this now entails? It means we're all responsible as stewards of this earth War and famine, death and pain we must address but first We must look into our own selves and purge the greed and hate To change the world you must change first to make room to create
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Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
The Trip