"ayahuasca" poems
when I am high the world is different.
lifted up I rise,
I dance with the flowers,
but sometimes the trees hiss at me.
when I am high my animal spirit comes out.
I am a tiger,
I fight with both paws,
but walk so elegantly and quiet I am not noticed.
when I am high I am of nothing but indifferent to the world,
I can see the way the ocean calls for the sky.
I can understand and speak to the animals.
when I drink this tea I am high.
this liquid is all it takes for me to belong in a world at all.
to understand the true meaning of life.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
Hildegard of Bingen
the most musical abbess
of the year 1097 a.d.
met with Jung the unconscious detective
and Ginsberg the howling poet
for lattes at some Starbucks
in a vibrating city
on a shimmering afternoon.
Angelic minuets keep flowing,
effervescing through my chakras
like tonal champagne . . .
the glowing femme declared.
Beams of ethereal light infuse me,
tsumanis of energy tempt me
to dance right out of my habit.
Ignoring the possibility
of seeing a naked nun drink coffee in public,
Alan mused behind his hornrims . . .
I get what you mean
like I have felt the same perfusion of joy
watching cans of peas and ayahuasca
dance with talking bananas
at the A&P; Market near my pad in Brooklyn,
can you dig it?
Still suffering from his Freudian hangover,
Carl reframed them both . . .
Any conclusions or convictions
drawn from such experiences
may not self-verify because
your introspective identifications
attempt in vain
to concretize the amorphicity
of decentralized psychic sensations
which reach conscious awareness
only at the expense of extension.
What did he just say?
Hildegard asked Alan.
I have absolutely no idea,
the portly poet answered
as he doodled an intricate mandala
on his hemp napkin.
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 12:21 AM UTC
Every cell in my body
trembles with anticipation
as the curandero croons
ayy ooo wah hee….
….time to come and see me…
as my stomach settles from the purge
of the exlixir of the vine of the soul
I have dared myself to drink
as my limbs begin to vibrate
as I am seized by the hair
lifted right up off the ground
in the arms of great angels
who look like alien jaguar dancers
with huge luminescent eyes
and funny hats
who live in the emerald jungle
where the concoction I took
grows entwined
with my desperate hope
that this isn’t a scam
that there really is another world
or maybe galaxies too
but then I realize
I’m so far away from home
I know I’ll never get back
because I see him up ahead
it’s God with his hair gloriously ablaze
sitting on a grand throne
at the end of a great stone road
like the Roman’s Appian Way
suspended in pulsing interstellar space
and there is a line of people
stretching for light years
all hoping for a sustainable miracle
all holding tickets to see him
and each one walks up to him
heads bowed
and he caresses their hair
and he says I love you
but really, I just work here.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 4:49 AM UTC
Bluebell Lucy danced in fantastic flames, taught by shamanic figures
when the winter nights grew tiresome
and lonely boys ran passionately in village streets
She stood on ancient structures and sang her song with uttermost vigor
even after mild paranoia sets in, she stands statuesque
breathing harmonic, listening intently to the cloud's chatter
Her cobalt lashes flickered adroitly when she scanned the sky atop her locks
and let the coming rains wash through that azure mane
until the kiss of eternal gratitude arrived from a stray bird
On cobble stone paving, her heels were worn and dampened, she nimbly strides
how beautiful it is to see a spirit so free
and the obstinate world yields to her alone
Loosely, Lucy with a cerulean aura, gathers the injured and feral in alabaster arms
she is yagé and the world hallucinates because of her
a subtle enlightenment she gives to onlookers and thieves
Camu Camu sprouting from the wells she digs with bare hands in midnight moonlight
her compatriots, the beasts of lost tribes, look onwards
and she wails a verse on hemerocallis singular sensation
The flower that she is, a wild one that grows sporadically to enhance the beauty of existence
and everybody incomprehensible in thoughts when she speaks
because she is love when love had died so many suns ago
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
throw away all of our material ********
our iphones and credit cards and television sets
throw them in a bonfire, take off our clothes and
dance around the flames naked chanting freedom mantras
we could do anything we wanted
climb to machu picchu and try to feel the past
drink ayahuasca and play shaman for a day
be wild and open and part of the earth again
for once in our lives we might feel important
unrestricted, powerful
like we have a purpose
and even after the hallucinations fade
maybe the plants will still whisper to us our destiny
when we are sleeping in hammocks and eating bugs
i guess i just wouldn't care if the guts got stuck in my teeth
because you'd be there and encourage me to give up my ocd habits
of always being clean
because you'd make it worth it to not care
i'd give you my soul if it meant we could always feel this way
so wonderfully lost in each other that nothing else matters.
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
Bougie Lucy, she rolls up the loose leaf
Loosely we lose it, in Lucy's two teeth
Luckily Lucy, she's got a two piece
Two piece suite, yeah, that's two seats
Look at me, it's a trick see, trickily tricky
Trickling; fusing, musing and using
Using her music, as the music is booming
Becoming a new thing, another new ring
Ruthlessly useless, bruising that two-string
But she uses, oh boy she uses me, yage, yage
Yes yes that's our own way, today and Tuesday
Always a new day, but to-day is Friday
Not to question why-day,
Only on Friday-
the day we die-day
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
I need a drug or a substance to be honest with me
Liquor keeps feeding me my own ********
The Mary Jane has me paranoid
Overthinking anything, and acting overly lazy
The mushrooms keep leading me to the woods
I’m a big boy, and have real big business to do in the real world
Molly is a dumb ***** who I lost my love for
When techno died in ****** times ‘09
Mom, dad and dead friends would be ashamed, but *******
Might be calling my name – once again.
I don’t have “a problem” – I have **** to deal with and **** to do
However I chose to get through my days is still getting through
Is Honesty,
Just another substance
Or an honest remedy?
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Let’s go trainspotting
or did I mean train hopping?
we’ll pick apples from the trees
out back under dark night skies
when nobody is watching
and we’ll drink water from gas station bathrooms
and coca cola from the glass bottle
Do you think
that before the cell phone towers were erected
people ever sent drunk letters?
Natives on Ayahuasca sending smoke signals
which say heyy!
I was thinking about you
and in the morning do you think they check the embers
and go oh ****
what did I do last night?
the chief is going to give me so much ****
the thing is
the things I say to you
with something in my system
are truer than all of the well calculated
across the room stares and smiles
and at night
while I stand lookout
while you pick apples
maybe I’ll drink some apple cider
and send you a drunk conversation
but when I’m with you
It’s like I’m drunk on puppy love
so you can believe
every text I send you
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
Your pupils dilate when you daydream of me,
I'm the focus of your erratic emotions.
Big birds and sharks circle below and above,
I'm your very own psychotropical ocean.
Goddesses weep that they'll never have me,
I'm the desire of all women and menfolk.
You're just a drop in my nicotine sea,
I'm your Revelator, forever and amen.
I open the book with seven tight seals,
Peter man's the gate to a white scale paradise.
A place for us who can heal the sick and lame,
You darling dear will know nothing of this.
My eyes full of water I struggled to see,
The physical signs of repeated emotion.
They opened my skull so they could finally see,
The darkness inside that caused all the commotion.
Mother boiled water and she made me some tea,
The darkened swirls combined with the clear water.
She mixed it then with some sweet honey,
Made me promise you'd never be her daughter.
Your pupils dilate when you daydream of me,
I'm the focus of your erratic emotions.
Big birds and sharks circle below and above,
I'm your very own psychotropical ocean.
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
I fell in love with a superstition.
She kept crystals at her bedside
to ward off wraiths and bailiffs,
selling friendship bracelets to
strangers on the internet whilst
keeping family in her prayers.
She would wander the fields
of **** and sunflower seeds,
howling at the moon without
another soul to converse with;
obsessive-compulsive murmurs
of a Hail Mary and incantations.
Potions of ayahuasca and sugar
brewed on the hob in the kitchen,
fridge magnets full of idioms and
passages from the Book of Psalms.
By the fire sat a pristine tin cauldron
with the price-tag still left on it.
Broomsticks were mounted on the wall
like lazy guitars or executed deer.
No photographs, only proud trinkets
and yoga mats; a crucifix hung over
every doorway, whilst she had learned
to cross her legs from all men and pain.
She laid me down on the bed
with a hungry sleight of hand
to show me her favourite trick;
I saw the marks on her arms
before she came alive in the dark,
and by the daylight - she had gone.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
I have never walked in
The doors of perception
Never tasted the red apple
Never pursued mushroom truths
Bitter **** grown reality
Not a fallacy, but part of me
The psychedelic
I’ve never seen the cosmic mind
Twinkling in and out of time
Patterns perfectly fitted
To dreams and facts still hidden
Becoming the transverse
Of my outer universe
The negative space
That fills my face
Connected while separate
From everyone else
Till I walk the road of
My truest inner self
I have never drank the Ayahuasca Tea
To discover the true me with DMT
Partly because I am scared
Of what darkness lies in there
But mostly because
They are illegal and hard to find
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 4:17 AM UTC
Pour a little nonsense
from the tip of this
smoking stick of sage
ash bash begash
sprinkle some silly salt
on my slug rug
give it a tug
the cries of the
self proclaimed adults
go unsung from sharp cheddar
goat cheese sings it like a breeze
bleat bleat sheep sell tears on the cheap
catch the blue butterfly that'll
pop into dimes
locks of love explode into chimes
and it's the dialectic of paradigms
thesis
antithesis
synthesis
sin this is
I guess
lol nah
pawn rook queen this is chess
bless it and mess it up to start over again
the king is in a constant state of
falling to the board
tick tack finger
speed up and
linger there
watch the ayahuasca vine grow in spirals similar to the dancing strands of DNA
base pairs are antennas of consciousness leaking through the silk screen press
I guess
two cupcakes told me that
teamwork is pretty sweet
take a bite and tell me if you like
the frosting on the cake I bet
you won't like the dough though
if it's half baked
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
Fancying the finer Atlantis
A doyen of may prey mantis,
A fervor of astroflight afterlife
A stone to the throw
Insidious pipe!!!
Ayahuasca peyote foray
To exude her plop top blush
A rhythm to all Einstein theory
A broom flyer of must!!!
Predilection
Tis
I do seek
Where the barn door feeds thy hungered
Where the cold is warm cut beamed
Ado of amanita muscaria seeing's
Wherein two worlds make one meaning
As the seam's rip in leather gleaming
By the kratom like capsules to uproar ourn compassion!!!
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
A hungry Body
A pervading darkness
Guide of light
A rattle made of leather shaped as a turtle
An eagle feather
An offering
A mixture of sage and sacred chanupa
A wooden pipe with a carved stone-face
A shrine dedicated to Spirit etched with-Mitakuye oyasin (for all our relations)
Neurons
Fire
Lungs
A staircase Tunnel
A sleeping body
Ayahuasca
A marketplace to return to....
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
the ayahuasca vine
is creeping
and crawling to
the further reaches
of the world
like a thought
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
Slow smooth beats
easy as a wave coming to shore
on a trip around the world
a genesis of a whisper
a tea kettle song
I hum along
engaging at mach speed
the sky swallows me whole
and whisks away my joker's heart
I stand in a limitless ocean
dreaming of drinking the sky
if I could only live
as large as my soul
and fly
This soap box
becomes a boat without a paddle
and I row where the tides flow easiest
waving to the smiling faces and
the emptiness all the same
We have a good laugh,
the dice comes up snake eyes
and I tell the dealer
I'm the richest man in Babylon
although my pockets are empty
my smile remains,
that crooked deal
always at the last will make you shudder and groan
wondering why another hand
Aces come up straight sometimes
and your game
riding high for another mile long fall
The air rushes by
but I don't blush
Tell me again you don't love me,
you, you
misunderstand me
my friend
I'm the beggar on the street singin' broken tune
with a full cup and no change
slack eyed and the blues
my cradle to grave lullaby
mixed with the ecstatic wails of a lunatic
swimming in a puddle of God
the fever touched my bones
I am blameless
my throat and heart see the truth
and speak in convulsions
of misshapen glory
the bed was soaked in sweat,
can't you remember?
Repent,
with my lips
I don't know how,
and could never,
I'll eat every sin
and spit out bones of gold
I'll drink every misery
and cry tears of wild joy
I'll stand at the shores end
and dance to the crowning sunset
leaping from the last battered watchtower
drown, drown
in blue neon
psychedelic bioluminescence
Sinking further into the mix of clay
every gamble lost and won in the same throw
I can't fulfill any other destiny
a blind man walking without a stick
I just call to the birds and the bees
bring me sweet honey ambrosia
and they usually come
There's no escape
the long cold night comes too
and my body lays into another bed
with without a warm body to hold
a stream of lovers touching my hands
but we slip any grip
that tries to hold
a human master
but the end
******** ayahuasca
master blaster
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
I apologize for my offensive tweet. I know that my words caused real harm, and for the next two weeks I will be spending time in reflection, meditation, and healing yoga at my Colorado ranch. I am also donating $100,000 to Black Marxists Anonymous.
I humbly ask forgiveness for the insensitive remarks that I made on my friend’s 1985 middle school yearbook page when I was 13. I know that my words caused real harm. There is no excuse for my poor judgment, and although my supporters mean well by pointing out that I was an adolescent, I do not agree that I should not be held to the same standards as a contemporary adult. I have spent time with my pastor examining my deep sinful nature.
I regret my costume at the Met Gala. I know that cultural appropriation causes real harm, and for a white woman to wear a dress adorned with feathers is an insult to Native Americans. I have auctioned off all of my turquoise jewelry and donated the proceeds to a Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Committee studying ways to improve BIPOC representation on the Met Gala planning committee. I have engaged a Native shaman to guide me to a path of understanding via guided Ayahuasca use.
I take full responsibility for standing next to Ned, my former best friend, in the photograph that has recently emerged of us at a friend’s wedding last year. Ned’s inexcusable remark on Tuesday that “All lives matter” is deeply offensive to me and today I join the diverse community that is boycotting his performances. I am ashamed that I ever called this person my friend.
I regret ever working with J.K. Rowling. She is a transphobic hatemonger who deserves our scorn and contempt. I realize that she will continue to espouse her bigoted views, because her fans do not care, Harry Potter lives forever, and she’s a billionaire who probably lives in a castle. But I will continue to post my outrage on my Facebook page so that…anyway, Rowling *****
Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 11:26 PM UTC
I saw snakes with thousand eyes in ayahuasca dreams,
They were telling me (I think)
" if you let me teach you, I can be your pupil"
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 4:13 AM UTC