Best Hallucinate Poems
~My Heart~
• One last night before the grave
• Thousands of thoughts of you I save
• -Every night, I experience the same dream
• That you haunt me, exposing my sensual needs
• You push me,
• Into a pit of everything that terrifies me
~LOVE~ I confess, I fear, I avoid!!!
In the back of my mind, the moon can’t be as large
My heart bleeds, to feel more than two worlds apart
Tonight I will embed, your fantasy, my fantasy,
The Astros; I project --into your arms, of security
Your eyes render
A heavenly sanctuary, a slight sick smile to my face
You stay, I stay, in a dream we touch lips
I venture my heart then I stray, Am I afraid?
Feasibly, I’m not open-minded
I hide under this mask, these covers, that make me hold back
• I echo the moods of past dreams
• I proved to sustain a closed book, yet open your way
A trusted aspirin, can’t make thoughts of you go away
Dramatize persona, the erroneous kind of light
Yet it continues to run like hot lava, melting my mind
I’m ever so soft, when lost with your words,
I’m weak, I feel each time I cross my fingers
I’m loss of words I babble, my heart sings
Then pretends, nothing is going on
Then, I hallucinate of that kiss, and then slowly it fades
Tomorrow's another day, every mood will get in the way
• Today, I will strain
• And make sense of what clogged my main artery
• In a holding cellar, like wine it will be worth the wait
You plead for me, you pinched my eyes
I fall back to reality
Avowal, Instructions, Discipline, and Lock Down
That explains it all!!!
By:PD
I came upon a tribe one day
in a land not far away
where everyone gets what they need
from juices of an orange seed
Some who drank the juice had died
and so the tribe felt satisfied
that they had weeded out the weak
with the help of orange seed
Some fell asleep the whole day long
for orange juice was very strong
and never felt an ounce of pain
with not a care to cross the brain
But others would feel more awake
with every little drop they’d take
They’d run and dance and twitch and shake
and never need to take a break
Still others would get sick and green
like a flu they’d never seen
The only really certain cure
was “Never touch the juice no more”
For some, the drug would change their mood
to dumb and brutal, cruel and rude
But even those would find their use
in the tribe of orange juice
Of course, a few got very wise
had visions right before their eyes
Surely, God chose them to lead
with blessings from the orange seed
So anyone made dull and tired
were rounded up and all required
to work all day or face the noose
and never touch the orange juice
But those the seed would energize
were thereby made to supervise
the work so tedious and tough
while sipping on the orange stuff
And those for whom the seed caused harm,
were duly trained to run the farm
All day to sneeze and cough non-stop
yet trusted with the precious crop
And anyone turned cruel, it’s true
got plenty of the orange brew
you could guess what jobs they do
and who they really answer to
Not leaders who hallucinate
that everything is going great
nor all the rest who get their dose
(except the ones that need it most)
Not any man or myth or god
nor any beast of sea or sod
but just a noxious little weed
with a toxic little orange seed
There may be some as I suspect
for whom the seed has no effect
I doubt that they’re allowed to stay
they wouldn’t want to anyway
when accused of blither-blather
seek shelter in the moment, rather
than plunge right in confrontationally
into a bottomless pit of calumny
remember to count to ten again and again
ramp it up to a thousand, don’t pretend
if you’re still hot, don’t plead that you’re not
or let bygones be bygones and all that rot
‘coz the chickens always come home to roost
when and if you’re still juiced
you just might slice that swollen face wide open, catsup-red
then hallucinate as into grinning spiders it is shhh-RED
*******
If the horror you've just read
fills you with naught but dread
Try not to lose it, jughead ~ pray hard
before you go to bed
~ Dr. Jack Ell
Sometimes life gets peculiar,
a picture falls off a wall
when no one’s around;
there’s a knock at the door
but, not a soul, anywhere in sight;
oh sure, there are practical jokers
everywhere but,
when the bizarre happens
right before your eyes,
and you’re fully awake;
that’s a whole other story!
It’s true that dreams will scheme
and play upon the mind and
I suppose under certain conditions
we may hallucinate but,
when perfectly sane and sober;
to lie down in the snow and
make a snow angel,
stand and turn around and
it shifts itself into an elaborate
Raphaelite-style angel,
as one’s staring at it?
I quickly took a photograph,
knowing that no one would believe...
the doubters claim,
“You’re quite the artist
to have carved such an elaborate
angel in the snow.”
But it didn’t,
I just lay there waving my arms and legs;
something...someone else must’ve...
taken things from there.
Land of the Lost
Time in time out
What's it all about
Got no freedom
Drunk on rum
Russian roulette full of fun
Empty barrel, trigger gun
Bust a cop
Prison mob
Modern warfare
Lord's prayer
Life's a steal
Keep it real
Living will
patients bill
File for divorce
Marriage course
False image
True discourage
Hating phase
Finger peace trace
Murder case
Birthplace
Where's my justice
Religion practice
Body full of lies
the truth dies
Overdrive
Sex thrive
Driver licenses
Fatal expense
Public enemy
Hermit disease
Auspice unity
Combined greedy
Foot prints
Heart dent
Failure to communicate
Achieve to hallucinate
Judged by hypocrite
3 seconds, 3000 kilobits
Every minute matters
For jugglers and gamblers
Every life has a cost
Land of the lost
By: P.D...
Intoxicated pinkish elephants
electrified in splendiferous drunkenness
surmised surrealistic playgrounds
of surround sound echoing laughter &
expansivly lit hot air balloons
merrily drifting to embrace star-dusted
skies' kaleidoscopic enchantment
ever wonder,
do intoxicated pink elephants hallucinate
the same as our own alcoholic delirium
I am a demon born from things you can not see
I am the devil look deep inside of me
this smile was born from torture and amphetamines
when I was 13 are lab exploded
gassing the house with a toxic odor
I woke up crazed and confused
thinking to myself I burned the house down
but I don't remember how or when
I panicked I ran from home, dripping sweat in my underwear
I remember someone yelling at me hey kid you ok
I ran from him too scared insane the meth in my child's brain
I went home and tapped on my sisters window she awoke
jhin what are you doing are you crazy
omg she smells it to runs out and hugs me its gonna be ok she says
I'm trembling violently sweating profusely I hear my sister screaming
my mother threating punishment if she told anyone about me,
my step dad growling
they come and get me, and whisper in the corner what should we do with him he's gonna die if we dont help him, lets called the hospitable and ask the nurses they did, I could hear them talking with my mother next to me, lady are u insane your child is dying bring him in immediately phone hangs up cold rags hit my head for hours I hallucinate horrific nothings
I watched the clock spin around for hours seeing creatures break the liquid hell walls of my home. when i was 16 I was accepted into college I did one year before the demons came crawling in infecting my mind screaming at me controlling me they said I was skitzo-affective with severe PTSD ,I dropped out of school thinking I was broken not worthy and started to use and abuse .I often think how much more intelligent I could be if that incident didn't happen who i would be without my parents, a different time with a different family, now I often act dumb so I can get along with other humans, if I act myself and say what I really think people don't relate to me, im nothing so i pretend to me stupid so i can have friends that think they get me , im all alone with myself in my self always
Written by sinisterpenz (sinisterpenns)
Taste the hate,
the poisonous juice from the bitter fruit
Evil seeds
being spit out of the mouth,
deadly wormwood desires formed at the root
Chew the rancid leaves of seethe
growing on the bigot tree;
hallucinate on the hate,
conversion of impure energy,
flowing angrily thru the bloodstream
Bitter fruit ripening on the bigotry,
pulpy prejudice ready for the fear harvest
Taste the hate,
the insidious ill-flavor of antipathy
Incestuous Klan anger is a Cain sugar power rush;
genetic mingling ...
social diversity is to some ethnic loathsome
Colorful branches
which need to be pruned and burned
Bite into the blood-red apple skin
of eugenic cleansing
Peel away the yellow jaundiced veneer
of a brutish banana attitude ...
watermelon torture mental binge-ing
Gorge on the sickly sweet fleshy toxic tissue
Taste the cluster of hate,
the bitter wrath from the grim reaper grapes
Feast on the assorted wicked fruits,
budding on the bigotry,
growing wildly in the soulless sour-patch grove
Bigotry got vile bark that covers a rotten heart,
nestled near the bubbling brimstone brook
Sulfuric tributary streaming from a fiery judgment lake —
that dreaded secret place where only God knows
Come taste the coconut hate,
drink deep the milk of hostility
The bitter fruit juices that you ingest
gonna give your spirit hate cancer ultimately ...
As you worry each morning,
whether vanilla and cocoa beans
were mixed together in your sin bought coffee
Watered and nurtured in
a congregation of a large brotherhood
the master is loving and caring
never allowing harm befall us all
or competition from green exploiters trouble us.
Weeds are cleared and burnt
Pests- fought back and eradicated,
all these enjoyment and their corresponding blessings
so unthinkable and unexplainable but real.
Then comes another master
with lips that can hallucinate the mind to goodness
and countenance so charming to both good and evil.
Our backs are scraped off to look a new
then packaged in groups to look so refined.
Excitement between brothers overwhelms all emotions
then off we leave the master’s shed
going to an unknown with the hope of better blessings.
In bits, we are sold out
angry I am that others were chosen ahead of me
then my time comes as warm hands collect me
washed and broken into pieces- my new self.
I looked bountiful in appearance
and so gracious in sight.
Why didn’t my first master do these things?
Why was he so rigid and uneventful?
Why did he care so much to limit my independence?
And all he wants is to put us under his oversight.
Different buyers come for different parts of me
the same mouths clothed in smiles
are the same sucking all sweetness out of me
each bite, a merciless chew
complemented by a drag of my light
into their darkness to render me worthless.
Now that I am reduced to nothing,
I am thrown out to the ground straight from the mouth
while hands stay irritated and too proud
to touch or carry me to my ruin.
From one to ten and them hundreds of feet,
they all step on me without noticing.
Oh such care from the plantation!
Now I wish I had remained there
I long to return to the brotherhood
and pray for the loving arms of my first master.
All others are beings of deception and lies
they come only to steal, to kill and to destroy
but He gives life eternal to those who seek it.
I am the sugarcane chaff and right now redemption is far gone
but I leave this note to let you know
that your ability to read it is a chance to accepting Him.
So-calm…
And so-even…
My world feels oddly
Complete;
With just a touch of weed.
My yin and yang,
Smoke hazed in the hang.
Floats so creatively…
It feels like a dream.
So ever calm,
This dream of dawn.
I believe I hallucinate a sound,
But it’s a burned mind
I’ve found.
I would trade anything
To keep this feeling.
Better than any drink;
This high that keeps me dreaming.
The hope and feeling;
I feel so calm and even.
A boundless seasoned-out fever;
A light toast unto the evening.
I love these slow and rainy days;
I wish I never had to leave,
And could stay.
Oh,
It’s my favorite kind of day,
So sweet,
Is the marijuana way.
The collaboration between the street and the Y2K mutants had commenced. These 8o’s baby’s filled the night’s air with green lite smoke, and choked back opiate related dreams from white coat masters. These were the city trolls. Forced to bend to society’s creation, of the new crazed sensation. Symbolic doses, hit the millennial air, as many become ready to hallucinate the night away, with a love for everything once ignored. Now the new age scene has turned many into fossilized poppers. As the years trickled away, the rotted souls, which were bought and sold, helped to build up treacherous narcotics related, public sedated, stick-up kids. Stuck with felonious tactics, many became devious. This was now the new age past-time. It was debauchery fitted and fallen into the midnight hour.
Madness was now shared, among those celled up with bites taken out of the family’s love. Years wrinkle into the fold of existence, as the drug fiend and high and mighty pushers create tactics to have pockets full of presidential green backs. These buckeye babies were now renegades forming freelance robbery hits from city to city. This was excitement for the ages. Their dopamine rushed out onto resurrected pipes, as bloody needle points were beginning to fornicate the blue passage. Now underground these were the people infected by thrown away existence. Authors of their own free-lanced hell. A swollen deviation tears threw, like a wicked witch twister. Now crucified by the same authoritative empire they once tried to live by. No longer will family love be embezzled, nor will they be upheld to hear the cruel-hearted deepest sold-off cries.
An innocent looking fungus,
With a wonderful psychedelic purpose.
What are we to see?
Fictional reality in cinematic 3-D.
A four hour journey,
Which creates a compelling story.
Can it really be?
Life's purpose visioned beneath a single tree.
What a strange sculpture,
Until one looks brutally closer.
Are you staring at me?
The condemned mirrored look, lusting to be free.
On closing my eyes,
I can see clearly the complex function of the skies.
A lucid dream?
Where illusions that hallucinate can be seen.
With no more fear limits,
After time-stopping regular love visits.
What does this mean?
The transformation into a beautiful human being.
Hunger
have a notion you might
hallucinate, we are
holding bodies so close,
hurting me, when you squeezed
hand tightly, emotions,
have shown us we are one,
hungering for our love.
written in Pleiades Form
penned 20/2/2017
Always flirts with disaster because she’s doom’s mistress
the power to enchant, hallucinate and control she possess
for dinner, she invites the legions of man’s captivity and slavery,
feasting to her records of conquer. What a hostess!
In awe of her highness,
she's the poisonous weapon and master manipulator
love, submission and tenderness, she falsely confess
with an intentional touch seemingly careless
ruining the victim to sustain her prowess
Her tricks, smoothness, lust and passion please avoid
or join her miserable congress
and suffer all the pain and embarrassing mess
People smoke weed, or crack to ignore problems and laugh hysterically,
coffee is my drug, it's my quick pick-me-up...I say it so proudly,
because it won't harm me, hallucinate me or make me feel afraid;
I will be alive tomorrow, not crash into into a lamppost as Freddy did.
I lived through the Hippie Era: bell-bottoms...long, frizzy hair
and funny clothes the kind that clowns wear,
no offense to those who thought they were cool;
it's my opinion, not of that guy who didn't see himself as a fool!
I had no time to protest, or vindicate the Vietnam War as Omar;
off I went to work each morning as hippies hung out by a bar
shouting at me, " Kid, stay alive...don't ever go to war! "
They ran and screamed, knocking down police barricades...horror!