"hallucinogen" poems
She is a succulent bunch,let me be helpful,
if you don't get the complex chemical scent,
I call her ,"a girl of unpredictable
meeting places"inotropic, is her effect,
She sends heartbeats way up.
Delectable too, she was, every time
I tasted certain parts of her.
Her avatars are numerous, like Hindu Gods
With specific intention for each incarnation
Onee will be pushed in to neurosis,
if doesn't completely relish her infinite variety.
She is a cryptic mystic,
for a while from signals
I discerned and firmly believed
Or is she just a creature mysterious
Doubt raises it's head, like a lotus
From slushy pond
My eyes met her at the level of her eyes first,
the rest in a haze to me was invisible,
Then my heart sends a message
"Right now, I missed a beat here"
Heart then recites a poem,
tells me, it is all her making
"Don't fall in love" heart's advice,
"Go, dissolve in her completely"
Even my own heart has crossed sides,
or is it truly an advice for my sake?
Love is a hallucinogen, get it?
she whistles like wind at bamboo groves
from within sings like a thrush,
she is a magpie, or is she a koel?
Nocturnal animal, in need of mating,
making calls, frantic SMS, incessant.
She is wind and water, elements
that make one burn and drown
She spreads her yoga mat on the floor,
asks me to sit cross legged Indian style,
I am already for that in my mind,
So I spread eagle in corpse pose, indicating, "All through my life", mother earth gives me warmth.
Shanti, Shanti, shanti
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 7:45 AM UTC
The tangible entity of consciousness is fleeting
Scene:
A elegant party but not quite extravagant
Clinking wine glasses echo through transparent walls
Twenty-two hundred lulls over the city like that of a shadow
This isn’t an ungodly hour nor is this a typical night
It starts when She enters in a red gown that elongates her figure
A pianist smirks in the corner — a grin that’s almost sinister
The clinking of wine glasses abruptly stops when its replacement of grim notes fills the glass house
The attendants still seem cheerful
(How peculiar?)
A stranger pulls her into a waltz but his eyes look hauntingly familiar
Unbenounced to her, He too dances with a stranger
Both on separate sides of the glass room
Both dancing with the unknown
Yet each pair seems to recognize some prominent feature
Nostalgic for what has never been
(How do you preserve a memory in reality?)
Through the glass house mirrors sit in obscure angles
One could see that within each reflection He and She were projected into the other room
Each glance towards the mirrors posed no questions
For both pairs seemed identical
Now their lives may have been content in accepting this dance with a “stranger” I suppose
But that was not the plan of this party
For guests grew tired of sipping on Beaujolais and listening to solem tunes
The pianist presented a different song, more lively yet equally eerie
Their feet paced with the new rhythm which called for a spin
(An act as dramatic as such was only proper for the scene)
With a grand gesture She turns, finally seeing the glass barriers
And for the first time that night He and She were face to face
A perfect dilemma to entertain an audience
In a frenzy She tried to speak
“I love you”
“I love you”
“I love you”
But each plea for affection deemed futile
For the grin on His face became that of the pianist
Her emotions were a downward spiral of gray shaded confusion
And with a sinister laugh He (or he) smashed the glass, shredding all source of reality
He was the hallucinogen and She was angry at him for making Her feel
And each guest cheered “bravo” demanding an encore
But this tragedy, dear friends, has come to the end
She’ll never know how the stars look where he is
(Is such a loss truly a loss?)
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC
Met this easy chick that don't **** **** she a no brainer
I said **** my duck and she said "What could be lamer?!"
Defamed, I went home cried and smoked some ******
Watch teletubbies in my ****** like my last name was schiefer
I went to bed and heard a scream
like R.Kelly I peed my sheets
Turns out the ****** was laced some sort of hallucinogen
I'm worried that in my bloods a carcinogen
decided not to worry cause whats the point
We all die so chill and roll a joint
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
I was always told to avoid drugs at all costs,
but what about the one that brushed its fingers against my neck?
that got me addicted with words
injected itself into my bloodstream via soft, slow lips
how do I stay away from the slickest poison of all,
the poison that has poured heated breaths into my ears
left dark bruises in unseen places on my chest.
how can I avoid the hallucinogen I love most,
what do I do to avoid you?
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
She came as a breath of fresh air
As beautiful as
Morning Glory
Embraced by dew bathing
Epiphanic
Under a yawning sun
Gentle as a breeze
Her softness
My hallucinogen
I melt in her arms
Continuously
I am in awe of
Her beauty
Breathtaking
Delicate
Feminine
Black
Beautiful Melanin
I fell into her spell
With alacrity
Coffee Black no
Sugar no cream
My Queen
Envied and persecuted
Her essence
The epitome of strength
Like coffee Black no
Sugar no cream
My Queen
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 7:34 PM UTC
In a sea of gin you sailed,
To conquer a future you dreamt of
In a hallucinogen induced haze
You exhaled smoke with every breath,
Fogging the world over with your intoxicated ideas
Sentencing rebel thoughts to death
You figured you were in an epic,
The ones where the hero stood against the world alone
But only you were against you and it was tragic
That battle was lost when you sold your heart for a bottle of poison disguised as magic
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
Surprises and challenges,
Experience that comes with your age,
Fear and laughter, Love and hate,
Other sweet contradictions called life,
Oh beautiful life!
More unpredictable in every bend,
Yet comes with a certainty to end,
Gives you wings to soar up high,
And laughs at you when you fail to fly
Becomes that helping hand in need,
Is humble, yet so full of greed,
Gives you dreams and goals you want to achieve,
Yet teaches you to accept every kind of defeat
Survival! is that really life's key?
Or is the key whatever you want your life to be?
Makes promises and gives hope that end in a strife,
Teaches you to say 'fuck it!' and move on with your life
A hallucinogen so intense that you actually believe,
The lies it throws at you as an excuse to live,
Oh life so beautiful, call it divine if you will,
It teaches you creation but also teaches you how to ****
-Sprishya
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC
You are like a
hefty dose of hallucinogen
to me my love.
I am addicted to you
your smile,
your voice,
your endearment
and
I am addicted
to the alluring feel
you give me
every time
I think of you.
© Kishamore
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 2:55 AM UTC
Did you get to sleep
Or are you marinating
in chemicals?
The nightcap pulled
you down
dragged you
with your breath
You cut deep
Did you figure your
insides out?
You're inside out
spilling your guts
again
off-balanced
like an unstable
vivisection
Combusting your soul
back to a black hole
Counted off stars
in your eyes
you swore were aligned
Do you know what's behind?
Or will you keep looking?
Out there the truth isn't
it's all a reality
hallucinogen
generation of
self-prescribed nomads
It's about the journey
somewhere there lies
a destination
Lying about it's age again
and you can't touch it
Yet
it was here
the whole time
this very moment
and it's so
*******
beautiful
if you can get out
of your own mind.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 3:04 PM UTC
It was a funny night
the boys were out on the back porch
eating sandwiches
of nutella and magic mushrooms
the girls were all upstairs
snorting tiny white lines
crushed prescriptions
and it hit me
a wave of light
pouring over me
again and again
"look at all the directions
we could go tonight"
so we went on a walk
through a winter wonderland
a sky divided
northern lights green
mars red
streetlights carrying rainbow halos
and these streets are paved with stars
the bushes bloomed with clouds
"there is no God
but I believe in love"
god **** that was deep
falling deeper and deeper
whatever the opposite of being
comfortably numb is
they took the cigarette out of my hand
entranced by steel blue spirals
making their way into the thick night
"It's burning me"
humans seemed a whole lot more
worthwhile
and that rug felt like magic
on my bare feet
everything being so perfect
it made me wonder
if life isn't the hallucinogen
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
Baby,
You were the biggest hallucinogen
I ever took.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
I've been away for a long mystery walk
When you knocked at my locked door.
Far away, under a smiling sky I was waiting
For a red rose to open her eyes fully,
To appreciate her beauty and breath in
Her fragrance, that'd prompt me to wait
Till you visit after all those stormy years.
But see what did happen instead,
A miracle that should not have happened!
You have come seeking me, how can I put it,
'Against my wish?' Am I right there?
I was expecting to hear your footsteps
Even when you step out from your cloister.
My hermitage was eager to hear your knock.
Much much earlier, but you put it off
On account of some unknown reason
But where did I go wrong,on your arrival?
Even if I am as swift as wind we won't have
A chance to embrace each other....heareafter.
Time is the juggernaut that decides the laws
Of the hallucinatory world we believe ours.
When the time ceases at a big crunch
We are free from the hallucinogen we are fed.
Feb 15, 2020
Feb 15, 2020 at 12:27 PM UTC
when you smile only your lips move
you’re a beautiful portrait of starched shirts and graceful misery
a whole tragedy told in your bared teeth and narrowed eyes.
when the soft moonlight runs down your face
all i see is plastic flesh and fine lines
jagged edges, discolored hollows—a broken sort of beauty.
the cigarettes and alcohol run electric in your veins;
you are gunpowder and grenadine, razor
blades and tar. sticky and corroding, sharp and broken.
you wear your jaundice like a punishment
a rotting underneath a supple olive complexion,
from the neglected depths of your weary body.
you are a child with an old man’s scars.
your lost youth poisoned with a misery so heavy
it’s as if you've seen the world and lived through it twice.
you inhale the wild air and you breathe out toxins:
everything about you is decaying and rotting and dying
but in your erratic pulse i hear a muted plea: don’t let me die.
so i lean over, and into you
and let you take in the oxygen of my lungs
and the lingering mint on my tongue.
breathe me:
let me save you from drowning
in lungfuls of nicotine numbness and hallucinogen delusions.
for you in full blossom, i inhale
and exhale the ephemeral, dissonant beauty of your mortality.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
Such a *********
Blankly staring at old
Photographs
Days passed that I left
Behind
What did I do
To deserve this
Sleep tonight? Oh no
Tonight I dream
Dream of a face I thought
I had tucked away
Lost in a haze, suspended
In yesterday
That I thought resided
Safely
Inside myself
A sweet vivid memory
Only summoned in times
I truly doubted everything
But you
Nothing in my whole life
Has brought me so close
To shredding the time
Space continuum
No hallucinogen
No stimulant
Has sent such profoundly
Primal chills
Down my spine
One single glance from you
Is all it took
to bring back to life
A part of me i thought
No longer existed
Indeed, I never really
Doubted
That this is love
I feel
When I caught your gaze
Captivated in my own
In that moment
You were truly mine
And I felt something I hadn't
In such a long time
that I belonged
And was exactly where
I was suppose to be
Only you, my dear
Inspire such a feeling
In me
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 11:56 PM UTC
Subconscious poetry
I miss my nostalgic energy
feeling the heat sun on my skin
wishing on a pebble
found it next to your high heels
your dress and hair bow in the trees
they were shaped like Texas
I miss the road
dead Kerouac soul
I need to fish for some morphine hallucinogen
degenerate again
no money again
lonely again
fine with that again
sittin alone with only the walls and the dog that ****** on my only blanket
I laugh
knowing that tonight
I'll walk down to the lake
watch the geese plagiarize flight
light a cigarette
that I bought with pennies
discovered behind the empty refrigerator
Subconscious poetry
Bob Dylan tongue
Jazz trumpet brass mind
1930's wooden night-club Italian music band dance floor soul
7 years old- never gonna die
20 years old- never gonna die
Foolish as a Child
Brave-ish as I can be
color my walls gray with left over paint
that we used to disguise our sail boat to cross the border
It's just me
the ***** floor
some words
some words
to do.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
I am not your breaktime deed --
That cigarette you roll
Between your fingertips.
I am not your black bow --
The one that you wear
When you're on call.
I am not your alcohol --
That bottle on your lips
And your face to the floor.
I am not your suede shoes --
Your night time glitter
In your daytime locker.
I am not your perfume --
Bottled and locked,
Always consumed.
I am not your secret --
A kept thought
Inside your head.
I am not your personal thing --
You neither own me
Nor use me.
I am your drugs --
And I brim your head
With what you think
Is true.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 10:29 AM UTC
Side by side fighting in rounds,
etching drawings in our skin cut by cut.
Hoping and praying that the vitriol
of the infection’s symptoms are sporadic;
that the wave of pain comes only in bursts.
Infection acting as a hallucinogen creating visions.
Yet it is in these sought after visions
we see battles as if they’re in rounds.
And in these battles the bullets fly in bursts,
where we see lives all cut
short. The lives taken are random and sporadic,
despite the takers lack of vitriol.
Like the poison of hatred and vitriol,
seeping through the mind like mirages and visions,
after drought and famine and natural sporadic
disasters wrought on different rounds
of dystopia — some of the battles we fight are cut
short and experienced like explosions, in bursts.
Sometimes our fights are drowned in shots and bursts,
with alcohol or drugs or other vitriol.
Maybe the vitriol is the blood we drink from the cut
on our wrists bringing us to the brink, with a vision
of our lives flashing before our eyes in rounds
like candid imagery. They seem sporadic.
However, although the images seem sporadic,
whether it be soldiers fighting firing guns in bursts,
or two kids fighting trading rounds,
like a man finding his wife’s lover with vitriol
in his heart, they all connect with a vision
of something where hatred is simply cut.
Where we can find personal and general wars cut
from textbooks and any person’s sporadic
memory. Where men have “a vision”
to “improve” a utopia. When men questioned men’s bubbles bursts.
Then they seethe and fester and ferment their vitriol,
like alcohol until ultimately feeding into the cycle. Then they fire their rounds.
Either at people or their own heads, their rounds
are found on the floor next to the sporadic, fallen gore. Their vitriol
lying next to the deceased vision of perfect around lives cut short, taken in bursts.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
Man say's
Hallucinogens can leadeth one to the ultimate trip,
Fact is......
Death
Is the ultimate trip!!!
Taking thou
Places no hallucinogen
Couldst ever go!!!
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
It's like poison
Toxic, deadly and addicting
Coasing through my body
Clouding my mind
Taking over
Its consuming me
Within this detrimental thing called love
An Unstoppable force
Thats made its way into the deepest crevices of my heart
Its burning my lungs
Suffocating, tightening its grip
Firmly planted down
And unwilling to let go
A hallucinogen, stimulant
Drug trip made for two
Infused within my soul
Glowing with a venomous hue
Its posion is bitter sweet
The promise of affection drawing me in
Filling me with contentment
Before the consequences set in filling me with resentment
Its intoxicating
An endless haze of love, destruction and despair
A drug that ive become reliant on
The pain and suffering to prove that i am there
Allowing me to reach my high
Happiness and never ending bliss awaits
Though with every high comes a even worse low
Its leaving me on the ground, greif ridden and despondent
Desperatly yearning for what was
Stuck on repeat
In the same mindless cycle
Drawn in by the same toxic poison
Merely by a different name
My addiction called Love
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
A sensation of familiarity.
A hallucinogen.
A fantasy used to escape woes.
It's meaning has been lost to time, just as the scars incurred were errased.
All that "remains is an idea existing only as a myth"...
Elvito
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 10:49 AM UTC