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"mescaline" poems
****** - Nay! ******* - Nay! Fentanyl - Nay!!! I'm addicted to a different one. ***** - Nay! Smack - Nay!! Tobacco - Nay!!! I'm addicted to a unique one. Mescaline - Nay! Marijuana - Nay!! *Ketamine - Klose!!!* I'm addicted to Poetry ever since I was borm.
0
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
The Only Drug I'm Addicted To Is...
To have them shipped across the sea, sitting like ornamental drops tinsel strung around your eyes pocketed the tree walking down sunset avenue reeking of bamboo stalks and water chestnuts looking for a place to submerge your treasure with a rattling breath do you deflate And the Oak trunk that grows unimpeded hanging her branches caressing the Spaniard shingles the clay missionary tabs touching the stucco with a golden blade of sunlight cutting a thousand little strips to hang about the face moving a thousand miles a second stopped in place with the quiet repose of a yoga state humming and shimmering yet let me be sweet oak tree. And I wander through the canyon boulevard between the rocky cliffs and the endless riff of surf-rock echoed off skate parks and riding the PC highway hair bedraggled and snaked into next week lingering bonfire on the cotton shirt plant for plant *** for tat seed to breed Now dance, you and me. Insinuation drooling salivary tongue full bacon pigging out on burgers getting red-eyes from vegans smoking plants murderers We squirt, relish on the act of dying all things dying choking life second by second dying to live. Staring at neon fins lining the gravel lot Koi flickering beneath the celestial night Suspended pondwater pondering In surfce tension the deep mysteries of life Tracing the snake through the winding streams we watch atop the rooftop Gaia Taking in the burgeoning Ocean of incandescent tangerine and Peyote-light Cacti hidden somewhere between the quiet slumber of mindless streets aligned by formless hands Drinking the mescaline air Twisting the nightly moments as locks of hair I curled them, slipping, within my fingertips tracing the long winding road of Tao along her shoulders Enraptured by her sensual bliss When I finally drifted along the clouded memories of divine rumbling eyes she disappeared into the sky blinking along the Jet turbines Never meant to be mine for more than a night
0
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
Nightly, Part 1
To have them shipped across the sea, sitting like ornamental drops tinsel strung around your eyes pocketed the tree walking down sunset avenue reeking of bamboo stalks and water chestnuts looking for a place to submerge your treasure with a rattling breath do you deflate And the Oak trunk that grows unimpeded hanging her branches caressing the Spaniard shingles the clay missionary tabs touching the stucco with a golden blade of sunlight cutting a thousand little strips to hang about the face moving a thousand miles a second stopped in place with the quiet repose of a yoga state humming and shimmering yet let me be sweet oak tree. And I wander through the canyon boulevard between the rocky cliffs and the endless riff of surf-rock echoed off skate parks and riding the PC highway hair bedraggled and snaked into next week lingering bonfire on the cotton shirt plant for plant *** for tat seed to breed Now dance, you and me. Insinuation drooling salivary tongue full bacon pigging out on burgers getting red-eyes from vegans smoking plants murderers We squirt, relish on the act of dying all things dying choking life second by second dying to live. Staring at neon fins lining the gravel lot Koi flickering beneath the celestial night Suspended pondwater pondering In surfce tension the deep mysteries of life Tracing the snake through the winding streams we watch atop the rooftop Gaia Taking in the burgeoning Ocean of incandescent tangerine and Peyote-light Cacti hidden somewhere between the quiet slumber of mindless streets aligned by formless hands Drinking the mescaline air Twisting the nightly moments as locks of hair I curled them, slipping, within my fingertips tracing the long winding road of Tao along her shoulders Enraptured by her sensual bliss When I finally drifted along the clouded memories of divine rumbling eyes she disappeared into the sky blinking along the Jet turbines Never meant to be mine for more than a night
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72
At the end, will it be brandy-wine or mescaline to sugar coat enlightenment, the purpose, the omnipotent influence? Some live to make a whirling dervish swoon. Some pray to Love, composing sonnets for the moon. Some find themselves floating, bloated lungs with lazy currents, mourning free-will. With questions perched atop your windowsill, do decomposing wings pull with yearning to wake in dawn's warning? Your beak, a rattling, pneumonic drill. It's a dead end, fear and adrenaline. Invite me in to ostracizing nuisances. Therefore, I may imprison myself in cylindrical cells, pop out wisdom like bubble-wrap, fight the mighty ocean swells, or shimmy up the lobster trap, With inevitable siege by buzzards eying wildly, shedding sea-salt feathers that won't be washed for weeks. Still, the mad-hatter trades me one more spill for spill. And I taste the honesty we sip for swollen memories whose frantic bodies let fists fly on flushed faces that we never truly see. In profound confusion we stumble, blind. Then, we all forget so blissfully, once we reach the rainbow's end.
0
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
Strut to the Rainbow's End
our love making is an   amphetamine coming together, crack ******* this stunning pleasure wilding dreams, mescaline pretense too real daily life, the modulation high of a flotation device, some call it cannabis-like gentle drowsy, a glass of tea and she...
0
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
His Narcotics
It was Tucson in the endless dog days of an endless summer. The heat was inescapable, pooling in the window frames and the air as it coughed from the vents: A fever that would never break. Two weeks we lay there, knee deep in the throws of a heat that would never subdue, a summer that would never end. You would knock on my door, laying there on the bed, staring holes into the dripped and melting ceiling. You held a paper bag of cheap wine between your ****** and tarnished fingers, clinking against the rings you wore like trophies. I don’t know where I found you, golden brown and beautiful out amongst an vast eternity of ugliness. We took mescaline we had gotten from your cousin living back out on the reservation. Laying there passing back the wine you told me how the desert was alive, how it had been swallowing you your whole life. You told me that the dryness and the heat had consumed you, burnt you through until you couldn’t bear to be yourself anymore. The scorching heat overcame you and you told me there had been no choice but to become the desert. I had only been in the southwest two months, but I saw it, although I was untouched. You had grown here, you said, wilting to ash together with the desert. The mescaline had me by the throat and I saw you from dust to dust. I saw you at one with the desert. You were beautiful amongst the red and ochre blood of the sand and at once I wanted to melt to ash and burn into the desert alongside you. I told you and you laughed and I laughed and we made love to the heat and to the sweat driven out from underneath our pores, inflamed by the drugs and the inescapable heat. The room was aflame and the great desert was alive and ripping at us through the open window with claws of heat that slashed at our backs. I awoke and you were tying your shoes. Just like that, the fever had broken, and already you could feel autumn coming in with its swathes of chilled air sweeping across the plains. I had been in love those two weeks. With the sun and the dust and the ash and the desert and all of it being one with you. As it all collapsed around me I felt saddened at its loss. You were out the door and the summer was over. I moved back east where the winter came faster and colder and the desert was of a different kind.
0
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
Heatwave
It was Tucson in the endless dog days of an endless summer. The heat was inescapable, pooling in the window frames and the air as it coughed from the vents: A fever that would never break. Two weeks we lay there, knee deep in the throws of a heat that would never subdue, a summer that would never end. You would knock on my door, laying there on the bed, staring holes into the dripped and melting ceiling. You held a paper bag of cheap wine between your ****** and tarnished fingers, clinking against the rings you wore like trophies. I don’t know where I found you, golden brown and beautiful out amongst an vast eternity of ugliness. We took mescaline we had gotten from your cousin living back out on the reservation. Laying there passing back the wine you told me how the desert was alive, how it had been swallowing you your whole life. You told me that the dryness and the heat had consumed you, burnt you through until you couldn’t bear to be yourself anymore. The scorching heat overcame you and you told me there had been no choice but to become the desert. I had only been in the southwest two months, but I saw it, although I was untouched. You had grown here, you said, wilting to ash together with the desert. The mescaline had me by the throat and I saw you from dust to dust. I saw you at one with the desert. You were beautiful amongst the red and ochre blood of the sand and at once I wanted to melt to ash and burn into the desert alongside you. I told you and you laughed and I laughed and we made love to the heat and to the sweat driven out from underneath our pores, inflamed by the drugs and the inescapable heat. The room was aflame and the great desert was alive and ripping at us through the open window with claws of heat that slashed at our backs. I awoke and you were tying your shoes. Just like that, the fever had broken, and already you could feel autumn coming in with its swathes of chilled air sweeping across the plains. I had been in love those two weeks. With the sun and the dust and the ash and the desert and all of it being one with you. As it all collapsed around me I felt saddened at its loss. You were out the door and the summer was over. I moved back east where the winter came faster and colder and the desert was of a different kind.
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66
If everybody were naked Nobody could make fun of my style I would never be outdated. I could go to parties with a smile. Also when I live naked Laundry bill can never go high. I go jump into the shower Suddenly I am a clean living guy. Of course your clothing Never gets sunburned And nobody laughs at your zipper. If you are the only Person who’s naked You look like a mescaline tripper. But if everyone got naked We might do away with all war Because there would be little That seems worth arguing for. With all the women naked There would be an end to their hose. And girdles out of the question. They’d be as natural as a spring rose. But one must be careful. A park bench can pinch And hot car seats can burn. Living **** has problems But like everything else It just more lessons one must learn. But think about politics naked; All those liars up on a public stage. Without their expensive suits Would they still manage to engage? Olympians played naked. Soldiers used to fight naked too. Not sure what point I am making But I think it means something, don’t you?
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Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
IF EVERYBODY WERE NAKED
Monday mornings are always easy. Monday mornings bring a breeze South Of The East, North Of The West. Its caressing the exposed skin of my flaky neck like the lead cannon from Atlantis, Flying for the grasp Of the cactus from San Pedro That provides mescaline to the tribes Nearby, that pray to its being as The Messenger From The West. Beyond the horizon, Like the jack rabbit, eroding, with a tube Sock in the vestibule over The Dungeon That Sings, Sideway neighbors to the uvula. If seen that way.                                            Beyond, the continual rings of                             Agorapho-                                                                                                     bia, Challenging anxious mind, With ideas Of how it be the, not the seal in yestereen's heels. Monday mornings Are always easy.
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Jun 30, 2022
Jun 30, 2022 at 5:00 PM UTC
A Book for Isabel
"For I am he that sways in multitudes, The Ur-reader believing faithfully; With words beneath my starry fingernails, And arms attendant to the mescaline sky. Forced blue and always empty to the face, Blue hands against the million-houred nights. Not blue by name but in a walking breath Beneath the curse and cry of glinting day. But praying's pointless anyway now that The Seven Hands that turn the Sky have moved; And walking with the moon can't turn me on, Because I end up doing all the work." There's not a ********* thing that you can do When all the forest's trying to keep you still.
0
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 8:04 PM UTC
Monologue in the Trees
A rhythmic whipping of winds on the pine trees, Mescaline mind, staring through tawny windows and thinking of America That easy breezy, ****** wind again, blowing blow from laps of men Tripping on paving slabs, adobe piles and rubble pouring through city streets Thorny throned king calls out his wife's name No response, no reprise, water fills the eyes of the owl as he watches A lizard through the grass with no legs, and the oxford comma blues A rider on horseback, gallop through the gully, hair screaming, maddening flights Frightening nights in the Texas desert as consumptive creatures crawl on broken sand Feel the eyes of the devil, searing the seer and the car that once roamed gaily now fails daily Left in bereavement on the side of a road Crying into calloused hands, wailing for the whale's lost daughter Sea-dive, see me dive, watch me drive, across country, to a home I will know When I see it.
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Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 8:56 AM UTC
Daydream Nation, Wide Open Spaces With Inexplicable Doors Swung Open
Wisdom is not knowledge. It took me a vial of mescaline And the Holy Bible To figure this out. All this contemplation Over matters of the heart, That information or judgement Could never fathom. Wisdom passed down, Acquired through Inheritance. Knowledge learned And memorized Through practice. Fantasies and dreams Always seemed like The synonym for The same thing. Fantasies are sleepy dreams Allowing us to imagine Our wildest possibilities. Fantasy parked out front In a street car named Desire. Dreams draped in a scarlet robe Of lust and positivity, Always come into fruition. Dreams draped in onyx And negativity Turn into the reversed Prophetic vision of what We want to be. Fantasy dismissed As impossibility But allowed in the Bedroom ************ Dreams realized and Dreams that die, They are considered The guiding reality. Expending so much energy On knowledge and dreams, But now I am Consciously connected To the vibration of Wisdom and Fantasy. Releasing resistance to Those concepts That I've never seen.
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Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
Wisdom and Fantasy
I'm walking laps around my apartment complex. Passing a red-headed girl with a bottle of Corona, a few Johnny Rebs talking adderall, headlights, streetlights, lighters, swirling, combining, but never providing enough bright. I'm still bearing a slight headache from Saturday night, but finally past the nausea. I spent the day conversing with Rachel's family. The domesticated, scene of warmth was a sharp contrast to the hell I put Rachel through in the waning hours of night. I woke at 9 this morning to find her barely covered in a ratty, blanket, no pillow under her ruffled hair, her eyes burnt red, asking if I was okay. I thought she was overreacting. She shoved water in my face. She said, "Drink it, ****** Like she'd tried a few thousand times before, and apparently she had, I just didn't remember any of it. She had saved me around 4. She cleaned off a death mask of filthy ***** by force. I wouldn't comply because I wasn't coherent. Tonight as I touch each crack of the pavement with my sole, the rest of the human family is pounding beer, suckling the barbeque off their pudgy fingers, and howling at a nation divided between Cheese and Steel. I'm stuck in the trough of existential contemplation. Old Mr. Huxley self-medicated with mescaline and said he discovered the "is-ness", and somehow found contentedness in "everything is". That never made much sense to me. Bukowski found god in ******* and drinking beer. Vonnegut said when god created the world, man asked what his purpose was. God was surprised, and he replied, "I don't know. Make one up."
0
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 4:53 PM UTC
Super Bowl Sunday
I'm walking laps around my apartment complex. Passing a red-headed girl with a bottle of Corona, a few Johnny Rebs talking adderall, headlights, streetlights, lighters, swirling, combining, but never providing enough bright. I'm still bearing a slight headache from Saturday night, but finally past the nausea. I spent the day conversing with Rachel's family. The domesticated, scene of warmth was a sharp contrast to the hell I put Rachel through in the waning hours of night. I woke at 9 this morning to find her barely covered in a ratty, blanket, no pillow under her ruffled hair, her eyes burnt red, asking if I was okay. I thought she was overreacting. She shoved water in my face. She said, "Drink it, ****** Like she'd tried a few thousand times before, and apparently she had, I just didn't remember any of it. She had saved me around 4. She cleaned off a death mask of filthy ***** by force. I wouldn't comply because I wasn't coherent. Tonight as I touch each crack of the pavement with my sole, the rest of the human family is pounding beer, suckling the barbeque off their pudgy fingers, and howling at a nation divided between Cheese and Steel. I'm stuck in the trough of existential contemplation. Old Mr. Huxley self-medicated with mescaline and said he discovered the "is-ness", and somehow found contentedness in "everything is". That never made much sense to me. Bukowski found god in ******* and drinking beer. Vonnegut said when god created the world, man asked what his purpose was. God was surprised, and he replied, "I don't know. Make one up."
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42
At twilight in the cave the bats gracefully emerge; sacrificing their lives to fly and play in the wind. Sweeping in diagonally perched on wooden posts the owls watch and wait for their prey. I marvel at gods game and sit in silence. karma pulls up and pulls out her self-division at the scene. I am magnetically drawn towards a single owl poised on a tree. I whisper to the creature, speak to me. The owl sings: puchu puchu! I sing back the crazy tune. The owl spots my red jacket nestled on my body and teaches me the blues. I come back a rainbow grounded on the green encased in a purple hue.
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May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
Mescaline
Sonoran Desert at 120 mph Chasing the spirit of Sal Paradise Mescaline is the water of life In these ancient bloodied borderlands
0
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 9:54 AM UTC
Sonoran Desert at 120 mph
the fragments from your thoughts dissolve into my numb limbs wondering eye sockets shock skin and metal bones as if to display the ever-growing feeling of melancholy the frozen voice of apocalypse chants to my garden stone heart a tiny glimpse into the void of yesterday surrounding images of sounds and mescaline being drowned by smaller devils ice-cold fingertips wash my face with delight the over-turning silence tied my fast paced tongue dry salty smoke air into that bell of mourning after good-byes the mutated shape of my heart descending into your vast and diluted throat a violence that slowly asphyxiates the life out of a part of me already gone the distancing shadows the murderer’s weapon soaked with ***** ***** images of pale dissatisfaction the digestion of hello and strange eyes bellowing across the floor dragging in its carcass the days of fresh blood and stale conversations dreaming awake dirt tongues fabric visions repeated on patterns tv listings exits painted over walk-in closets regards left on the table un-opened coming back again to the same house and closing your eyes emptying the lies left across my face (here) it’s not your fault too many scars while listening nothing is coming out of your mouth (I am your body crippled ill tempered disgusting disfigured and confused by ugly lights) for good
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Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
when the obvious discussions are discovered to be nothing more or less
they were always three sheets to the wind anyway, the idiots. together we would shriek and raid ears as we rolled across the parking lots. the ice and snow were never cold enough to turn our skin blue, but we covered ourselves in it anyway. then they tried lucid visions but they weren't sincere enough. they tried caffeine, mescaline, adrenaline. they tried to go the whole nine yards and only got eight. i spat in their faces, the hipster ***** as mortality flaunted her **** in front of me. handicapped and average, i put a toe out of line and it was returned to me mangled. i dredged the barrel and found limes in the cracks and the wood tasted of hops. i was a visiter and you all hung from the ceiling, cradled in my scarves. i woke up and saw white walls and the umbrella in the corner was no longer tangible.
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Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 11:58 AM UTC
toe out of line
I want excitement. I want something new. I want to take mescaline at Machu Pichu. I want to travel. I want to escape. I just need to breathe air for experience sake.
0
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 5:50 PM UTC
Experience
Do we ever really mean it with temper stripping us down to our most animalist sadistic I did not mean that, poem of mine I showed you last night what read simply bled Last night, contemplating accidental mescaline trips loves loss life death becoming master of this illusion We are the generation which creates itself I am my years in Chongqing Where my heart heeded me not court the innocent Chinese beautiful flower of a ****** My heart could not resist the fling Monster Foreigner Devil Oh! How my tormented conscious screams! I am my months In Greifswald Moin Moin Moin out back of Mensa Club my head met an angry boot thud I let out my cruddy caterwall ***** ************ **** ****** Come here I will ******* **** you! I am held back from further humiliation by the furer followers taken for my stitches. made a scene at the police station. I get what I deserve in my American varsity jacket I stole from my father, vintage. I was an easy target it is not far fetched I get a blitzkrieg on my head. I am my posh time in London In Hampstead I swirl sangria discussion David Downs and which works are his strongest In Chelsea I walk around boxer shorts and pajama bottoms getting k-holed with the bottom feeders all ****** on frosty jacks 7 a.m. I am ready for heaven my world swings before me, swaying... silently. A dead man hangs swoosh swoosh falling from the gallows
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
what was said last night
mother was a saint father her punching bag sisters were all called ***** when they came home and failed the ***** check my mother gave them, mother did nothing wrong she ruled with brick hard pork chops and circles of us kids screaming , a belt in her hand, who stole my chocolate bar? No wonder dad had other things to do, referee in basketball and hockey an ump in baseball, a head linesman in football a devoted Boy Scout mentor, he mentored so many young men, but was not there for me. I grew up not knowing how to tie a knot or survive, I was lucky mom favored me. I guess because in that circle of five kids, me being the youngest , before school age, to stop the terror I said I had stolen that candy bar. She was a smart saint, asked me what kind was it? I failed and was dismissed from the circle of terror. I went to my room the rest of my days at home trying to balance the sanity from the insane and withdrew. I bounced ***** off the wall. Made up fantasy baseball players. Had all their statistics scribbled in notebooks   year after year, always my name was there and I was better than Babe Ruth. Somehow , I was smart enough to get the hell out of there. I got out earlier with mescaline mushrooms *** lsd Quaaludes alcohol young girls. But, I got out fully when I left to join the Air Force. I look back and state all this for the purpose of saying it was all my fault, not mom's or dad's, mine. I was weak. It took me years and years to figure it out get strong find my voice consider  my mom as a saint again and my dad as a martyr!
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Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
my dad was a martyr
mother was a saint father her punching bag sisters were all called ***** when they came home and failed the ***** check my mother gave them, mother did nothing wrong she ruled with brick hard pork chops and circles of us kids screaming , a belt in her hand, who stole my chocolate bar? No wonder dad had other things to do, referee in basketball and hockey an ump in baseball, a head linesman in football a devoted Boy Scout mentor, he mentored so many young men, but was not there for me. I grew up not knowing how to tie a knot or survive, I was lucky mom favored me. I guess because in that circle of five kids, me being the youngest , before school age, to stop the terror I said I had stolen that candy bar. She was a smart saint, asked me what kind was it? I failed and was dismissed from the circle of terror. I went to my room the rest of my days at home trying to balance the sanity from the insane and withdrew. I bounced ***** off the wall. Made up fantasy baseball players. Had all their statistics scribbled in notebooks   year after year, always my name was there and I was better than Babe Ruth. Somehow , I was smart enough to get the hell out of there. I got out earlier with mescaline mushrooms *** lsd Quaaludes alcohol young girls. But, I got out fully when I left to join the Air Force. I look back and state all this for the purpose of saying it was all my fault, not mom's or dad's, mine. I was weak. It took me years and years to figure it out get strong find my voice consider  my mom as a saint again and my dad as a martyr!
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36
Twinkle, twinkle great big sky I tend to wonder how you got so high; Was it ***** mescaline or shrooms? Maybe that’s how the flowers began to bloom Shooting up ****** in your veins the roots changed colors and that’s how trees became Twinkle, twinkle, great big sky Inquire if the truths a lie.
0
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
how high the sky
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?
0
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 8:44 PM UTC
15D DREAMS