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"shrooms" poems
"What's one of your favorite hobbies?" "I dunno.. taking an eighth of 'Shrooms and proceeding to clean the house once each few months is a pretty fun and enlightening hobby."
0
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
Hobbies
Mine 6:48 a Wednesday Two Weeks later Then: Thanksgiving eve 5E; MIT I sit at my desk: stare out of the windows < My skull at the Chocolate Bock I just Overflowed > all over my notes on the Circe episode of Ulysses, which I have not yet read. 20 minutes after I just –– Went alone. Stood there, yes, alone Above the porcelain enterprise Taking that litmus test of humanity Clear, I pass. Yellow, I fail. It was rather clear I think Honestly? I don't remember. Two weeks ago, I stood there== and came up with this phrase. Standing there with special eyes:::: Seeing. Came back to my room, I did, faithfully Looked there below my second fridge A plate sat. mine. On it: maybe food, maybe ***** Probably marijuana Only the first my own Who remembers? Next to it: an empty prescription bottle "It's some medicine for Asthma. I don't even _have_ asthma!" "Classy **** I am; I've never bought a shot glass. Just use discarded prescription bottles." An experiment @ the sink: exact: 2.0z. On the dot. Turns out that's 1&1/3 of the standard—The ritual We make it. And have made it. For years now together after midnight [or so] 4 years. Soon it will be Maybe I shall leave; probably not but harken back, that fortnight, less 6 To that evening. Orange and purple Effort sublime but not enough: Lost to a team of Freshman.?! ~If only:~ "Tripped mad-laundry shrooms", 6 and a half months ago Two men sit in the corner of my room I know one; the other spoke 2-weeks-later: sticky keyboard I am not sober, but who is? Last night. Remember those videos? reminded me that *** can be beautiful: After basically 2 years: I almost forgot. x-art.com. December 6, 2011 I have a perspective now: It is not the same as yours it is not and, by necessity, can not be the same. But I see it. Stephen Daedalus calls it immature—lyrical but **** you, James: it is mine! I am. Will always be. Will have never been. But, God/Goddess **** it now! I am: I See. I try! ~D.B.Guy
0
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:23 AM UTC
Mine.
Mine 6:48 a Wednesday Two Weeks later Then: Thanksgiving eve 5E; MIT I sit at my desk: stare out of the windows < My skull at the Chocolate Bock I just Overflowed > all over my notes on the Circe episode of Ulysses, which I have not yet read. 20 minutes after I just –– Went alone. Stood there, yes, alone Above the porcelain enterprise Taking that litmus test of humanity Clear, I pass. Yellow, I fail. It was rather clear I think Honestly? I don't remember. Two weeks ago, I stood there== and came up with this phrase. Standing there with special eyes:::: Seeing. Came back to my room, I did, faithfully Looked there below my second fridge A plate sat. mine. On it: maybe food, maybe ***** Probably marijuana Only the first my own Who remembers? Next to it: an empty prescription bottle "It's some medicine for Asthma. I don't even _have_ asthma!" "Classy **** I am; I've never bought a shot glass. Just use discarded prescription bottles." An experiment @ the sink: exact: 2.0z. On the dot. Turns out that's 1&1/3 of the standard—The ritual We make it. And have made it. For years now together after midnight [or so] 4 years. Soon it will be Maybe I shall leave; probably not but harken back, that fortnight, less 6 To that evening. Orange and purple Effort sublime but not enough: Lost to a team of Freshman.?! ~If only:~ "Tripped mad-laundry shrooms", 6 and a half months ago Two men sit in the corner of my room I know one; the other spoke 2-weeks-later: sticky keyboard I am not sober, but who is? Last night. Remember those videos? reminded me that *** can be beautiful: After basically 2 years: I almost forgot. x-art.com. December 6, 2011 I have a perspective now: It is not the same as yours it is not and, by necessity, can not be the same. But I see it. Stephen Daedalus calls it immature—lyrical but **** you, James: it is mine! I am. Will always be. Will have never been. But, God/Goddess **** it now! I am: I See. I try! ~D.B.Guy
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69
You have ripped bellbottoms a shaky smile, The sandy curls that cascade down your back. You smoke till your lungs go black, You sit in the blazing sun meditating till you go tan. You play the tunes of The Beatles and Jimi Hendrix, That suede jacket you wear every Tuesday. You decorate your room with blankets so the colors keep you company, The daisies you wear in your hair till they go brown. You let your cigarette dangle from your thin lips, That gritty sound you make when you form words. Your eyes are always clouded with memories, You wear those circular shades to hide from people. You wipe the tears off of people’s faces, Smile when theres nothing to smile about. Your hands are tatted with henna, and you wear the shirt of a tie-dye spider. All you eat is trail-mix of pistachios and sun-dried apples. You ride in a Volkswagen with windows down to feel the breeze. Your peace sign is like “the healer” to all pain. You take a pull off hookah and a bite of shrooms just to chase away the madness. You create your own reality. When the rain falls down you fling your head back and yell to the world, The face you make when you see animals. He’s like an eagle, ready to sore through the sky and bring positivity. Don’t ever tell me you’re not a hippie, because I’ve never seen anyone as unique as you.
0
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
Hippie
Many of us wanna be trippy, Sliding through life, It is very slippery, Cutting acid with a knife, Popping shrooms like a hippy, This causes us to get high, Leave the real world and say goodbye, Saying **** our lives, Like everything was a lie, This is whats really trippy, "When you are trying to get something out of water there are ripples that appear, Never knowing if the ripples will cause it to come into reach or flout farther away."(my own quote btw) Think about that the next time you wanna say bye, Because you will miss your chance to survive!
0
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
trippy
Shrooms Stems & caps divided in 8ths. Handful taken, pupils dilate; things get smaller others larger, pictures dance; your in a dream with open eyes
0
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
Drug use #3
death mourns a life that succumbs to suicide... classical lawless-ness? calls the jyst... a thieving; a stolen death, a suicide.... bride riddled to a bridge... baking... left half awake and half baked... you count with the number of blinding equations... your 80+ segments? i want nothing to be part of, whether polymath, bilingual, or polymath... you resd yourself into "it".... fuck you, and... **** off... in terms of .gif ***** files... no... the part where we don't parrot? for no worthwhile surprise! death is alal b & w... memory? all invigorating sepia... life? the blooming of color... you take shrooms, to invigorate the colors?! oh look... you're as loony as me... and why would i give a **** about your tall-tales of subversive religiosity?! you're right! like you have been with me to begin with... there aren't any! now?! suffer! you're in good hands... turns out?! i'm a sadist... i somehow tested the pain on myself... i enjoy... the pain, of others, having, prior, teased the pain on, myself! i forgot teasing the pain... i taste it... i welcome it... i've become welcoming in allowing it, a stature abbreviating a transcendence of victim-hood! i need pain, to craft an erasure of ever having the capacity to instruct a modus operandi for pleasure! death contra suicide... a fact contra a premature contest of pleasure... suicide is what death calls thief... there is no moral artifact of a "question"... suicide is the thief, when death is the executioner... what moral question is to be entertained? non! i can't blame the mortality arsonist... less Tartarus and more Gehenna... less S.S. and more khaki S.A. night of the broken windows and less... hyper-Hindu reincarnation, hue hue grey... woo woo the ashen pillage... no... i'm not here for the cinder and the ******** it's enough that i drink the sort of excuse, that sober people could hardly make excuses about... and that's enough... and enough, is, where i'll stick to.
0
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
death is robbed via suicide, i want to rob death of of its stature
death mourns a life that succumbs to suicide... classical lawless-ness? calls the jyst... a thieving; a stolen death, a suicide.... bride riddled to a bridge... baking... left half awake and half baked... you count with the number of blinding equations... your 80+ segments? i want nothing to be part of, whether polymath, bilingual, or polymath... you resd yourself into "it".... fuck you, and... **** off... in terms of .gif ***** files... no... the part where we don't parrot? for no worthwhile surprise! death is alal b & w... memory? all invigorating sepia... life? the blooming of color... you take shrooms, to invigorate the colors?! oh look... you're as loony as me... and why would i give a **** about your tall-tales of subversive religiosity?! you're right! like you have been with me to begin with... there aren't any! now?! suffer! you're in good hands... turns out?! i'm a sadist... i somehow tested the pain on myself... i enjoy... the pain, of others, having, prior, teased the pain on, myself! i forgot teasing the pain... i taste it... i welcome it... i've become welcoming in allowing it, a stature abbreviating a transcendence of victim-hood! i need pain, to craft an erasure of ever having the capacity to instruct a modus operandi for pleasure! death contra suicide... a fact contra a premature contest of pleasure... suicide is what death calls thief... there is no moral artifact of a "question"... suicide is the thief, when death is the executioner... what moral question is to be entertained? non! i can't blame the mortality arsonist... less Tartarus and more Gehenna... less S.S. and more khaki S.A. night of the broken windows and less... hyper-Hindu reincarnation, hue hue grey... woo woo the ashen pillage... no... i'm not here for the cinder and the ******** it's enough that i drink the sort of excuse, that sober people could hardly make excuses about... and that's enough... and enough, is, where i'll stick to.
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90
she is not enough i’m nothing special *** is lot of fun but not my passion this feeling is a ***** trick or, maybe, i’m just being **** i don’t know and i don’t know whom to ask life is like hardest math task she made me think that my heart is closed but i’m crying while reading Mozart story they made me think that my problem is dose but without it i’m angry, sad and worried i will stop rejecting and gain control input some shrooms and rock and roll you know i’ve closed my heart intentionally my hell is in the others, eventually
0
Dec 31, 2020
Dec 31, 2020 at 7:07 AM UTC
hell
Alone That's how I feel very often Sitting here on my own  Til the day I'm in my coffin  Double crossers run they mouth more than water in a faucet And these ratchet *** hoes only want what's in my pocket  Foreal  All these fake *** ****** claiming they yo friend But in the end everybody know its just pretend  Unlike the demons that I see in every empty room And the reasons why the world is stressed from work and shrooms Every season 50 people on Milwaukee news Dying cuz they tryna find a way to get around the rules And it's funny Well it's really kinda stunning Cuz they tryna make that money To see they kids make it out of school Now ig they'll never see that day.  Why ? Cuz they died tryna get paid.  Wow.  They lived for the same thing they died for.  Blood drips and now they the one that millions cry for.  But last week he was knocking on every single door Asking for donations for his child and nothing more But they snickered and lied on they doorstand  And now they sniffle and cry for this poor man The three types of people that I mentioned before Are the same people behind all those knocked doors  The double crossers were friends that wanted new friends The ratchet *** was his unsupportive girlfriend The fake guy Was every person that cried When they found out that he died  But mocked him while he was alive I don't want those kind of people around me That's why I claim my loneliness so proudly  That's why I'm lonely in this world with no poise Yes I'm alone. But loneliness is my choice.
0
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
Loneliness: A Blessing or a Curse?
Alone That's how I feel very often Sitting here on my own  Til the day I'm in my coffin  Double crossers run they mouth more than water in a faucet And these ratchet *** hoes only want what's in my pocket  Foreal  All these fake *** ****** claiming they yo friend But in the end everybody know its just pretend  Unlike the demons that I see in every empty room And the reasons why the world is stressed from work and shrooms Every season 50 people on Milwaukee news Dying cuz they tryna find a way to get around the rules And it's funny Well it's really kinda stunning Cuz they tryna make that money To see they kids make it out of school Now ig they'll never see that day.  Why ? Cuz they died tryna get paid.  Wow.  They lived for the same thing they died for.  Blood drips and now they the one that millions cry for.  But last week he was knocking on every single door Asking for donations for his child and nothing more But they snickered and lied on they doorstand  And now they sniffle and cry for this poor man The three types of people that I mentioned before Are the same people behind all those knocked doors  The double crossers were friends that wanted new friends The ratchet *** was his unsupportive girlfriend The fake guy Was every person that cried When they found out that he died  But mocked him while he was alive I don't want those kind of people around me That's why I claim my loneliness so proudly  That's why I'm lonely in this world with no poise Yes I'm alone. But loneliness is my choice.
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39
Crush a bit, little bit, roll it up, take a hit Feeling lit, feeling light, 2 AM, summer night Hands on the wheel, uhh, **** that Life for me is just **** and brews See the hoes flock to you when your name is Q Am I over-faded? Hell yeah it's true Turn a beat on, ain't no limit to what I can do See this Top Dawg in heat, but I'm a **** the world I'mma be on tunes 'til God re-furls You sat me down, I'm still tryna get higher You looked at me stupid when I twisted the fire Meanwhile my ***** drunk as **** A ***** ****** up, we all ****** up You done ****** up, I brought more blunts Smoke back to up, you ****** know what's up Too **** high, can't stand myself I love drunk driving, man I'm something else Heat on my side, you're more than welcome to melt I'm 'bout to finish a pound, you're more welcome to help **** and brews, **** and brews Life for me is just **** and brews I ****** her once, then I could **** her twice Yeah, you heard me right, I might **** tonight Wait hold up, back in this mothafuckin' ***** once again It's the pretty ********** with a 40 ounce of brew My ***** Q and we drunker than a ***** We gettin' millis ********** yeah, uh ***** **** and brews, unbelieveable Got a freak or two, in my vehicle Got the purple drink, got the yellow drink Then we mix it up, call it Pikachu With a little bit of crack, little bit of dope Little bit of smoke, little coke Little **** when they on them pills Little bit of E, little bit of shrooms Little bit of deuce, what it do, hand on the wheels And I keep the illest, trillest ******* while I'm swaggin' it Crush a bit, little bit, that's my pursuit of happiness If I ****** her once, then I could **** her twice If I ****** her twice, I might change her life If I change her life she might hit my **** We could have a some and we could round it off with three Her, Mary, and me, I'll keep it strictly G My philosophy upon living right ***** **** and brews, and head every night Hope the ***** nice, cause I'mma fight the ***** Beat it down and **** I be clowning with Black Hippy crew, how swag am I Be the reason why, she wanna drown my **** But I soon realized, she was super dry No paper planes, the Vegas will fly Don't act surprised, too much Loc inside Let's get stupid high, to where I can't reply Love smokin' dope, I won't compromise
0
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
Hands on the Wheel
Crush a bit, little bit, roll it up, take a hit Feeling lit, feeling light, 2 AM, summer night Hands on the wheel, uhh, **** that Life for me is just **** and brews See the hoes flock to you when your name is Q Am I over-faded? Hell yeah it's true Turn a beat on, ain't no limit to what I can do See this Top Dawg in heat, but I'm a **** the world I'mma be on tunes 'til God re-furls You sat me down, I'm still tryna get higher You looked at me stupid when I twisted the fire Meanwhile my ***** drunk as **** A ***** ****** up, we all ****** up You done ****** up, I brought more blunts Smoke back to up, you ****** know what's up Too **** high, can't stand myself I love drunk driving, man I'm something else Heat on my side, you're more than welcome to melt I'm 'bout to finish a pound, you're more welcome to help **** and brews, **** and brews Life for me is just **** and brews I ****** her once, then I could **** her twice Yeah, you heard me right, I might **** tonight Wait hold up, back in this mothafuckin' ***** once again It's the pretty ********** with a 40 ounce of brew My ***** Q and we drunker than a ***** We gettin' millis ********** yeah, uh ***** **** and brews, unbelieveable Got a freak or two, in my vehicle Got the purple drink, got the yellow drink Then we mix it up, call it Pikachu With a little bit of crack, little bit of dope Little bit of smoke, little coke Little **** when they on them pills Little bit of E, little bit of shrooms Little bit of deuce, what it do, hand on the wheels And I keep the illest, trillest ******* while I'm swaggin' it Crush a bit, little bit, that's my pursuit of happiness If I ****** her once, then I could **** her twice If I ****** her twice, I might change her life If I change her life she might hit my **** We could have a some and we could round it off with three Her, Mary, and me, I'll keep it strictly G My philosophy upon living right ***** **** and brews, and head every night Hope the ***** nice, cause I'mma fight the ***** Beat it down and **** I be clowning with Black Hippy crew, how swag am I Be the reason why, she wanna drown my **** But I soon realized, she was super dry No paper planes, the Vegas will fly Don't act surprised, too much Loc inside Let's get stupid high, to where I can't reply Love smokin' dope, I won't compromise
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54
Here come Jupiter child, You can hear the flowers crying as they plead for her to stay a while, She just collided with and intergalactic asteroid, But things were only created never destroyed, In the dark cool tunnels she found some pretty moon shrooms, sheltering growing seahorses wrapped in loose water droplet cocoons, Now towards earth you hear her come, Within the clouds she beats her tribal drums, The ocean sways and swells to the time of her rhythm and sound, Reaching deep into the sea forest to whales traveling homebound, She wears stars framed in turquoise, Like the kokopelli she gives birth to planets with grace and poise, Here comes Jupiter child, dread locks wound with comets, extracts from the universe, she mixes matter-less tonics, Recipes rooted deep in wizardry, she borrows knowledge from indians and aztecs to cure all misery, Her meteor showers made of her salty tears, Are earth's dream catcher, snaring all nighttime fears.
0
Aug 22, 2010
Aug 22, 2010 at 10:01 PM UTC
Jupiter Child
When you sing                                                                                            I cry When as stars you shine                                                                                     I wonder                                                                                    and sigh                                                                        You live in the hollow                          of my moon                eating my shrooms You glitter bright                                                    to my arms delight Your comet eyes Milky way smile Star cluster hair Nebulous wiles                                                    and cares Have caught me intentionally                                                       unaware
0
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 11:59 PM UTC
Celestial Body
bugs are scary creepy crawly legs trek up my own biting my skin feeding on my blood for nothing but sustenance when it comes to bugs, and me, and the meadow im lying in there simply isn't enough room for all parties involved so i took shrooms there is no pain i feel no bugs yet we see all bugs all bugs are dancing in a constant state of dancing they dance and they eat we dance and we eat in the meadow for the meadow is home there has never been another home but the meadow the meadow encapsulates all beings that matter the bugs only the bugs for i am the bugs WE are the BUGS THE BUGS ARE US WE ARE THE CHILDREN WE ARE THE WORLD WE WILL SING UNTO YOU, THE MEADOW ANCIENT HYMNS FROM THE UNDERGROUND LISTEN WITH YOUR SOUL WE ARE DANCING and we have danced we danced until the sun stopped setting for the sun can never rest will never rest in the presence of us, the bugs the beautiful, beautiful bugs we love the bugs i love the bugs bugs used to be scary
0
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 1:58 AM UTC
on bugs (being on me)
Remember what we looked like before we saw? Remember how we saw, before we achieved? Remember the perseptions. Remember how we understood. We were infinite. We understood. We were connected. Unexplainable realms, divided our thoughts yet the vibes brought us back to the place that we wanted to be. In circles these waves of wind wind. Around all our internal states. The few external traits, picked up from only a few trained ears and eyes. Perception has changed. We look at this connection differently than what we could mearly just see before. Now it's something more. Spiritually and physically more compelling than anything that one could only just simply visualize. You'd have to experience. You'd have to feel. This connection. Those sources of understanding, that bring us back into the very same thought that we first began with. The circular path. We call life. It all just leads to the same questioning there was when we first began asking the questions. So why would we keep asking them? It seems pointless to keep wondering about how much something matters. When in reality it's not how much it matters to you. But how much it meant to them. ...and this is what shrooms have taught us....
0
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
The Influence of Mushrooms
Hey man, what's good? Good; Is good. It is good. I am good. Gin is good. Air is good. Art is good. Tea is good. *** is good. Tao is good. Zin is good. Yin is good. Life is good. Zen is good. Beer is good. LSD is good. We are good. *** is good. Love is good. Cake is good. Time is good. Yang is good. Wine is good. Black is good. Sleep is good. You are good. To be is good. Syrah is good. Logic is good. Metal is good. Piano is good. Feet are good. Water is good. White is good. Steam is good. ***** is good. Legs are good. Music is good. Coffee is good. Guitar is good. Honor is good. Poetry is good. Colour is good. Cheese is good. Arms are good. Cellos are good. Portal 2 is good. Respect is good. T'ai Chi is good. Writing is good. Context is good. Literacy is good. Hands are good. The Sun is good. The Past is good. Wisdom is good. Humour is good. Fingers are good. Whiskey is good. Friends are good. Teaching is good. Learning is good. Thinking is good. Empathy is good. Dreams are good. Cannabis is good. The Earth is good. Digestion is good. My pets are good. Harmony is good. Discretion is good. Shrooms are good. The Moon is good. The Stars are good. The Future is good. Meditation is good. Experience is good. Philosophy is good. Spirituality is good. Dissonance is good. Knowledge is good. Perspective is good. Respiration is good. My Guitars are good. Being myself is good. My lovers were good. Civilization V is good. My Computer is good. Self-discipline is good. Video Games are good. Having a Body is good. Having a Mind is good. Team Fortress 2 is good. Having a House is good. Having a Mother is good. Being a Philosopher is good. Being an Autodidact is good. Kerbal Space Program is good. Being here and now as me is good. Being alive as a Human Being is good: Having this opportunity to experience this holy reality is more than I was ever guaranteed. Thus I give thanks to all of these things and Thus I give thanks for all of these things. Thus I give thanks.
0
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC
A short list of things for which I give thanks.
Hey man, what's good? Good; Is good. It is good. I am good. Gin is good. Air is good. Art is good. Tea is good. *** is good. Tao is good. Zin is good. Yin is good. Life is good. Zen is good. Beer is good. LSD is good. We are good. *** is good. Love is good. Cake is good. Time is good. Yang is good. Wine is good. Black is good. Sleep is good. You are good. To be is good. Syrah is good. Logic is good. Metal is good. Piano is good. Feet are good. Water is good. White is good. Steam is good. ***** is good. Legs are good. Music is good. Coffee is good. Guitar is good. Honor is good. Poetry is good. Colour is good. Cheese is good. Arms are good. Cellos are good. Portal 2 is good. Respect is good. T'ai Chi is good. Writing is good. Context is good. Literacy is good. Hands are good. The Sun is good. The Past is good. Wisdom is good. Humour is good. Fingers are good. Whiskey is good. Friends are good. Teaching is good. Learning is good. Thinking is good. Empathy is good. Dreams are good. Cannabis is good. The Earth is good. Digestion is good. My pets are good. Harmony is good. Discretion is good. Shrooms are good. The Moon is good. The Stars are good. The Future is good. Meditation is good. Experience is good. Philosophy is good. Spirituality is good. Dissonance is good. Knowledge is good. Perspective is good. Respiration is good. My Guitars are good. Being myself is good. My lovers were good. Civilization V is good. My Computer is good. Self-discipline is good. Video Games are good. Having a Body is good. Having a Mind is good. Team Fortress 2 is good. Having a House is good. Having a Mother is good. Being a Philosopher is good. Being an Autodidact is good. Kerbal Space Program is good. Being here and now as me is good. Being alive as a Human Being is good: Having this opportunity to experience this holy reality is more than I was ever guaranteed. Thus I give thanks to all of these things and Thus I give thanks for all of these things. Thus I give thanks.
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107
Remember the time we ate shrooms and spent the night lying in a graveyard my shoe broke on the long walk home and you carried me across the parking lot because there could have been glass Remember the time you saved me from a boy I didn't want to kiss you hid me at the top of a rocket ship and every time he tried to enter you shoved him down with your foot Remember the times we laid side by side on the cold wooden floor and blasted music all night long till the stars ceased to shine Remember the time you got out of jail and walked to my house to crawl into my bed but found another boy there instead you quietly left and I had no clue till you confessed later Remember the time you left early in the morning to catch your flight and I didn't wake up but when I did there were two CDs on my pillow that you had spent all night making Remember the time you said I was wifey material after I danced on stage at a white rave in my black bra Remember the time I dyed my hair green and met your visiting girlfriend and you said I looked like medusa I wanted to sock you Remember the time we got drunk and took xanax and laid in my bed you made your move then and I giggled during our kiss because I was high and scared it'd change us but it hurt your feelings on accident Remember the time I started hooking up with your best friend/roommate and you had to sleep on the couch I'm sorry I was so callous Remember the time you sent me a christmas present it was a build-able straw the best thing anyone has ever given me Remember the times you tried to love me and I wouldn't let you now you're gone chasing ****** and I miss you so much that I write to you all the time I write about you because I can't stop talking to you even when you disappear
0
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
Max,
Remember the time we ate shrooms and spent the night lying in a graveyard my shoe broke on the long walk home and you carried me across the parking lot because there could have been glass Remember the time you saved me from a boy I didn't want to kiss you hid me at the top of a rocket ship and every time he tried to enter you shoved him down with your foot Remember the times we laid side by side on the cold wooden floor and blasted music all night long till the stars ceased to shine Remember the time you got out of jail and walked to my house to crawl into my bed but found another boy there instead you quietly left and I had no clue till you confessed later Remember the time you left early in the morning to catch your flight and I didn't wake up but when I did there were two CDs on my pillow that you had spent all night making Remember the time you said I was wifey material after I danced on stage at a white rave in my black bra Remember the time I dyed my hair green and met your visiting girlfriend and you said I looked like medusa I wanted to sock you Remember the time we got drunk and took xanax and laid in my bed you made your move then and I giggled during our kiss because I was high and scared it'd change us but it hurt your feelings on accident Remember the time I started hooking up with your best friend/roommate and you had to sleep on the couch I'm sorry I was so callous Remember the time you sent me a christmas present it was a build-able straw the best thing anyone has ever given me Remember the times you tried to love me and I wouldn't let you now you're gone chasing ****** and I miss you so much that I write to you all the time I write about you because I can't stop talking to you even when you disappear
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53
*this poem didn't come easy. written amidst buffeting emo's, V will not be natural flow, probably flawed. You, self-chosen people, will come along, please, to see the process, and the proceeds too. But as usual, the poem was write before me, needing only human kindness overflowing to guide the way.* V V words lord, excluding all others, phonetic juggernauts, never met a V word that had no personality. victory is the one word that my/our brains think of first. sure there is vortex, victuals, veer and valor exam, the latter, what ever it means is a gift, curtsy-courtesy of auto-incorrect. but it is victory on top, victorious in its own way. try it on another if you must... what is the word that starts with a V that first comes to mind?* so let us talk of victories. so oft, I write in the dark, even as I do now. came home soul weary, face worn-worry, gotta go out to meet Peter Bogdanovich later, to chat about his latest movie. woman looks me over. X-ray glance, an MRI of my heart, no deductible charged, but oh yes, a co-pay due, indeed! Peter will keep, tonight you're-mine, to bed I send, right after we consume Large Thin Mush, cause pizza with shrooms contains mood serotonins, that erase the "pain of the day" that be a victory nonpareil. a Waterloo, a Normandy landing, that be a victory where both sides hug and kiss, and make with their long, stubby Churchillian fingers, V's all night long with goofy grins, cigars and bowler hats, just to go along. so here I am in the dark, having been "put" to bed, one mo' time, slicing and dicing letters into a word-salade, instead of resting. dreaming of the day when I can no longer need to pretend to be a Seuss, but truly, can be writing poems for all my children~friends. one for each letter of the alphabet, teaching us to write upon our faces laugh lines thin and fine, mine, ours, yours. product of pizza poems, some that come not circular, but tonite shaped just like a woman, just like a V.
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
V: A Sorta-Commissioned Poem
*this poem didn't come easy. written amidst buffeting emo's, V will not be natural flow, probably flawed. You, self-chosen people, will come along, please, to see the process, and the proceeds too. But as usual, the poem was write before me, needing only human kindness overflowing to guide the way.* V V words lord, excluding all others, phonetic juggernauts, never met a V word that had no personality. victory is the one word that my/our brains think of first. sure there is vortex, victuals, veer and valor exam, the latter, what ever it means is a gift, curtsy-courtesy of auto-incorrect. but it is victory on top, victorious in its own way. try it on another if you must... what is the word that starts with a V that first comes to mind?* so let us talk of victories. so oft, I write in the dark, even as I do now. came home soul weary, face worn-worry, gotta go out to meet Peter Bogdanovich later, to chat about his latest movie. woman looks me over. X-ray glance, an MRI of my heart, no deductible charged, but oh yes, a co-pay due, indeed! Peter will keep, tonight you're-mine, to bed I send, right after we consume Large Thin Mush, cause pizza with shrooms contains mood serotonins, that erase the "pain of the day" that be a victory nonpareil. a Waterloo, a Normandy landing, that be a victory where both sides hug and kiss, and make with their long, stubby Churchillian fingers, V's all night long with goofy grins, cigars and bowler hats, just to go along. so here I am in the dark, having been "put" to bed, one mo' time, slicing and dicing letters into a word-salade, instead of resting. dreaming of the day when I can no longer need to pretend to be a Seuss, but truly, can be writing poems for all my children~friends. one for each letter of the alphabet, teaching us to write upon our faces laugh lines thin and fine, mine, ours, yours. product of pizza poems, some that come not circular, but tonite shaped just like a woman, just like a V.
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76
Heathens - in heaven's lobby flock to barter for Magic 'Shrooms with pop rocks... and pancakes and leaf-green brownies. new to the scene; the Son of Man holds a motley court, then wanders off to fetch Picasso - Lassoed from his cups, his Love that must Love his genius... doubtless, cloud-scrawling huge pendulous ******* in Elysium; for no one at all. better Pablo should tend bars      that set mobs free than one god's toddler, with long odds against Bacchus - should ever small-talk-speak to the godless or worse... preach. " Better Sins to love.. " The Spaniard once taught... A Lover's Urge is born in forms of weakness.... adorned in all Might - bathed in blessed contradiction, a Lingam for a Yoni's dream of stiff drinks and pliable men, with strong arms. a blue fiction  on Calvary - nailed to the softest cross. Between thieves, an honor, double parked with bucket seats brimming with moonlight, and her knickers tossed. Picasso asks for absinthe to be sent post haste and polished off - by all his better angels he had guillotined with dull snails, and fallen   harps ones -  he stole,  to de-tune a flat fifth of Cuttysark for a deaf ****  [but no mute ] a portrait, **** and is soon bought... lust sleeps then - with both Eyes;   Locked on One of God's. like a deer in a Head-light's Gospel... now, a Minotaur on the Autobahn - stalking it. II Heathens in heaven's lobby recite ' Howl ' as Ginsberg, walks over hot coals and spicy psalms; glowing wanton in white grass; with a very cherry **** And a wise throng, cobbles... ****** - they rob Peter of his  toga, leaving nothing wrong. but no less ' On ' they laugh hard;  and wake the dead asking  them for new songs to set    their false alarms in lofty Tic' Tocks   of Eternity's clock. Bible on a snooze bar for at least that long or  someone knocks. As if  "Hello."   Spoke the Whole World into Being - And " Goodbye." misspoke, and trailed off...
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Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 1:58 PM UTC
Heathens In Heaven [ Canto I ]
Heathens - in heaven's lobby flock to barter for Magic 'Shrooms with pop rocks... and pancakes and leaf-green brownies. new to the scene; the Son of Man holds a motley court, then wanders off to fetch Picasso - Lassoed from his cups, his Love that must Love his genius... doubtless, cloud-scrawling huge pendulous ******* in Elysium; for no one at all. better Pablo should tend bars      that set mobs free than one god's toddler, with long odds against Bacchus - should ever small-talk-speak to the godless or worse... preach. " Better Sins to love.. " The Spaniard once taught... A Lover's Urge is born in forms of weakness.... adorned in all Might - bathed in blessed contradiction, a Lingam for a Yoni's dream of stiff drinks and pliable men, with strong arms. a blue fiction  on Calvary - nailed to the softest cross. Between thieves, an honor, double parked with bucket seats brimming with moonlight, and her knickers tossed. Picasso asks for absinthe to be sent post haste and polished off - by all his better angels he had guillotined with dull snails, and fallen   harps ones -  he stole,  to de-tune a flat fifth of Cuttysark for a deaf ****  [but no mute ] a portrait, **** and is soon bought... lust sleeps then - with both Eyes;   Locked on One of God's. like a deer in a Head-light's Gospel... now, a Minotaur on the Autobahn - stalking it. II Heathens in heaven's lobby recite ' Howl ' as Ginsberg, walks over hot coals and spicy psalms; glowing wanton in white grass; with a very cherry **** And a wise throng, cobbles... ****** - they rob Peter of his  toga, leaving nothing wrong. but no less ' On ' they laugh hard;  and wake the dead asking  them for new songs to set    their false alarms in lofty Tic' Tocks   of Eternity's clock. Bible on a snooze bar for at least that long or  someone knocks. As if  "Hello."   Spoke the Whole World into Being - And " Goodbye." misspoke, and trailed off...
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98
Lisa Nelle had two names like a pornstar. She'd put her makeup on and stick all this blackness on under her eyes like she was holding night in bags. We watched Hey Arnold! DVDs at five in the morning, and smoked the whole place up. Sometimes her and Alexis would go in the back room. Alexis never liked me. Lisa Nelle had this way of looking at you where she'd take her eyes and she'd work her way down to your stomach. She could find a star in my intestines, a dwarf light could warble in my stomach and she'd see it through my belly button. She'd pull it out wings and all and tell me that Khalil knew the answers. Out of this two-ton purse she carried around, she'd whip out a compilation of Khalil Gibran. One time she told me how her father used to pull her hair and thighs. She didn't say anything about it again. When we tripped shrooms, she took my hands and put them on her neck and asked me to feel for the nebulas underneath her skin. When I read some of the stuff you send me, the emails, texts or poems, I can't help but wonder how many words I now know as a result of you that I wouldn't know if I hadn't been looking around for bud and someone I knew that knew you. I'm sorry Lisa Nelle, that things didn't work out with you and Alexis when they did with you and Sabrosa. Sometimes I hate myself too.
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Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
Beautiful Women can be Lesbians Too.
I think my cat's a drug addict, but it's difficult to know. It could be a problem with ******* by the way he bats at snow. I've already considered amphetamines seeing the way his ear's perk; though maybe its caffeine withdrawal, some days he's such a **** He could be hooked on ecstasy, his pupils often grow wide. Sometimes I suspect he's dropping acid since he just stares outside. It's possible he's smoking *** he's always in a haze. Maybe he's popping too many pills, as sleep takes up most days. My cat could be on ketamine and eating magic shrooms. It explains his invisible friends at night that he chases from room to room. He could be 'Chasing The Dragon' like he chases his tail or ball; Or **** or hash, or bath salts, hell, he's probably on them all! I should do something about it soon, he's becoming very dramatic. Tomorrow I'll check him into rehab, because I think my cat's an addict.
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Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
I Think My Cat's A Drug Addict
There's so many drugs out there, **** Crystal, Coke, ****** Shrooms, Acid . . . And many more. I ended up choosing the worst. Y o u. There's no rehab for you, There's no withdrawal from you. You're an exact drug. I tell people I'm not thinking about you, But I am . I tell people I don't miss you, But I do . I tell people I don't need you, Oh but I do. You make me feel the best high when I'm around, Happiness like no other. You set off dopamine in my brain, You make it sky rocket. I'm so addicted. You're worst than a drug. You talk, walk, feel, react, think; You're a person. And I can't go to my nearest dealer to get you. You're unobtainable, And like an addict to me you're irreplaceable. I wish you were any other drug, So I could get you quickly and be satisfied. But you're a person, I can't have you as I please. So please don't haunt me anymore, Because I'm an addict and you're all I need.
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 3:11 AM UTC
Drugs .
I had this dream yesterday... it was as if the world was one huge building with only hall ways, no rooms... and everyone was racing through these hallways in a stampede going nowhere... complete and utter chaos, no one had morals adults trampled over children to get ahead and nothing made any sense a piece of candy could do crazy things and anything you imagined was real and the world's existence itself was fathomed up by my subconscious mind which leads me to believe that the actual world was the dream itself this dream is definitely a metaphor that my sleeping brain wrote a poem called a dream using a pen dipped in my perception of reality
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Apr 23, 2011
Apr 23, 2011 at 10:35 AM UTC
Shrooms Dream
**** you old man" He told them to turn the **** noise down stopped at the Hugenot and Robious light they were 16 with cigarettes, a bowl named Willem Dafoe, and an old VW hippy van Too drunk and throwing up in Mom's best frying pan pain pills because they all saw an orthodontist a camelback full of two types of whiskey boiling in the van at noon the two headed beast spewing into one toilet shrooms acid DMT all chemically hard to pronounce they saw the face of God as she mourned her own death sweet lovely death bittersweet like chasing bourbon with coke lost in the maelstrom of growing responsibilities amber then green they tore down Robious laughing and singing punk music at the top of their lungs
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Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC
Towers of Red, Amber, Green
It should go without saying that I go without paying any attention to you Your life is my strife, existence a pun, and makes you look like a fool. So you eat lots of shrooms and listen to Tool... what do you think that makes you? When deep is skin-deep, and piercings eat you, the tattoos will only accrue To "tell your story," and Whaddup, homie? until death parts you From the *** you don't get and the lies you believe to sleep at night, ****** and blue If you were a book, there'd be lots of pictures and captions that just read "Who?" with a cover to judge and be pretty true an accurate description of you.
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Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 1:47 PM UTC
Poseur
I ripped our love apart. I defiled it. Whatever we had I graffitied all over, I sprayed noxious fumes over a work of art. And you're gone. I ate our love up. Devoured it. We had a four course meal planned out. I ate the desert before the meal began. And you're gone. I bulldozed our love. Destroyed it. We were architects for not just a building, a city. I burned the plans, the structures. And you're gone. I killed our love. Murdered it. a life of Your pit bull and hairless cat and motorcycle Workbench -did you ever take that course? love Your eyes when they were seventy. When we were on shrooms, I hallucinated you at seventy. I started crying because you were so beautiful. That was before I went homicidal. But you are gone. And I don't blame you.
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Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 4:25 AM UTC
Hairless Cat
Do you remember? we were as high as it is humanly possible to be, and the world was warped, twisting around us. I was falling, at first, into insanity, and i cried as i realized that everything was over, and then We were holding each other, and i felt love for the first time curled up in your arms; we were curled up in the worlds arms. I think i understand now, that everything just is. that you are, and i am separate. I think i understood that i shall never change, the world shall never change, you shall never ever change. And then you were gone and i felt our friendship disintegrate, obliterated with your disappearance, and I died along with it, before the hospital trip, before understanding everything.
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Oct 30, 2011
Oct 30, 2011 at 5:13 AM UTC
shrooms