Best Hallucinogenic Poems
Madness, the Hatter blinks.
Madness, Oz's link.
Repercussions of concussions.
Madness was Portnoy's complaint**,
Madness must reciprocate!
Hallucinations filter by....
Leary* winks at Dali's eye.
A house lands on Dorothy's thighs...
Chicken Little wanders by.
"Madness," Hitler's honcho’s sneer.
Madness splices genes with fear.
"Lobotomize!" becomes the cheer.
Kellogg’s* enema's find waiting rears.
"Are you the ass? Or is it me?
Have I ears and a nose? What do you see?"
"Hehawww," said Pinocchio's friends.
"Heeehaw," said Darwin* back again.
Round and round went Steven Hawkings*.
"Madness," said Lenore's raven* squawking.
"Madness," said Einstein* in a blink.
"Reciprocate!," said the missing link.
Reference Poem Knock Knock by The Archaic Poet - topic madness
* Art by Salvador Dali
* Portnoy's Complaint by Phillip Roth states
if you know you are crazy than you must be sane.
* Timothy Leary explored LSD and other hallucinogenic drugs.
* Kellog [of cereal fame] proposed enema's as the cure to
all health ills, plus loads of sex!
* Darwin proposed man evolved from apes.
* Edgar Allen Poe was mad when he wrote The Raven.
* Einstein had aspergers syndrome a type of
* Steven Hawkings is a wheelchair bound scientist who autism.
extrapolates on the edge of mathematical reality.
I stand tall on the windy mountain side.
Look down on mankind’s world
And snort in depreciated disgust.
Let death embrace me in its jugged jaws.
I'm not afraid, just tired.
This flagella of torrid life,
The gross garbage of man’s past,
The insignificance of the insecure future.
Time has no meaning.
A hallucinogenic rhythm
Of the quintessence of nothing.
Bring on the rumbling war drums,
Raise up the sharp guillotine's blade,
Let the cacophony begin,
Let me dance to no rhythm
Of preconceived dreams.
For since the beginning of time
When humans invented drawings
Of men killing men, and sang
Songs resonating of rape and lust,
Of slander, conquests and plunder.
The day will come when we must
Give an account of our misdeeds.
We turn our backs on good and evil,
We just don’t really care what happens
To unfortunate beings, our neighbors.
The writing is on the wall.
The seer chants: the end is near.
Yet something in me stirs.
I refuse to let go. For look
Not far away on this cold mountain
Is a rainbow, way up high,
As bluebirds happily fly on the other side
Of the shimmering bewitching hues,
A consequence of a prism of raindrops.
One day, all our dreams become reality.
Hope reigns again and all dreams come true.
Man-made drugs
Induce an altered state
A psychedelic paradise
Of euphoria
A burst of colors
Impaired reality of dreams
A fix of blissful forgetfulness
Married to ecstasy
What need have I of these?
When I have you
My drug of choice
I will not touch any of the others
But you, I long to touch…
To feel you under my fingertips
To caress before I ingest
And let you posses...
Every way I can have you is good…
I inject
Inhale
Take you in orally
Taste you laced with everything
Under my tongue...
There…ah….there….it begins
I start getting high….
Climbing and climbing
My roller coaster rocketing high
On your words
On the scent of your emotions
On the presence of you in my mind
Who could ever find
A more wholesome or better stimulant...
Yes, you stimulate every part of me
You excite me
Make me delirious
Bring fire to my veins
Drive me insane
Make me oblivious to the pain
Leave me wanting more than the time before
Wanting a larger dose of you
More dangerous
More hallucinogenic
Unaware of my surroundings
I climax on this induced trip
You….my drug of choice
The drug from which
There is not even an iota
Of hope for rehabilitation….EVER...
Every cell to my very core is under your control
I want you coursing in my blood
Flooding my brain
FIX AFTER FIX AFTER FIX
More often…more intense…longer…stronger…
What drug can compare to you?
My ever present addiction…
Opiate of my obsession
Drug of my choice….
YOU!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Was struck by a bolt of inspiration on this one! :)
Belt it out with Amy Winehouse…..”They wanted to take me to rehab, but I said ‘NO, NO, NO’.” ;) When I teach my students a rule or so in grammar, I say, for example, "Can you use a comma to join two independent clauses? Is it enough punctuation?" Then, in answer, I belt out with Amy..."NO, NO, NO!" They laugh!
Madness, the Mad Hatter blinks.
Madness, Oz's link.
Repercussions of concussions.
Madness was Portnoy's Complaint*,
Madness must reciprocate!
Hallucinations filter by
Leary* winks at Dali's eye.
A house lands on the wicked witches thighs.
Chicken Little wanders by.
"Madness," Hitler's honcho’s sneer.
Madness splices genes with fear.
"Lobotomize!" becomes the cheer.
Kellogg’s* enema's find waiting rears.
"Are you the ass? Or is it me?
Have I ears and a nose? What do you see?"
"Hehawww," said Pinocchio's friends.
"Heeehaw," said Darwin* back again.
Round and round went Steven Hawkings*.
"Madness," said Poe's raven* squawking.
"Madness," said Einstein* in a blink.
It drive me crazy just to think!
"Reciprocate!," said the missing link.
* Art by Salvador Dali
* Portnoy's Complaint by Phillip Roth states
if you know you are crazy than you must be sane.
* Timothy Leary explored LSD and other hallucinogenic drugs.
* Kellog [of cereal fame] proposed enema's as the cure to
all health ills, plus loads of sex!
* Darwin proposed man evolved from apes.
* Edgar Allen Poe was mad when he wrote The Raven.
* Einstein had aspergers syndrome.
* Steven Hawkings is a wheelchair bound scientist [has autism]
he extrapolates on the edge of mathematical reality.[Really!]
I lost my mind
somewhere
between the seconds ticking
God left
and the devil punched in
Stray winds
dark and long
blew coldly on my paper sails
as
things I thought I knew
sank away
down into lightless fathoms
And when
in answer to my begging letters
a bashful dawn bled in
I made her promises
that somewhere
deep within
I knew
I’d only go and break
In a dream called passion
Ensconced in effervescent lingerings
sifting through moonlit seams
Soft flavored drippings of ecstasy
melting slowly within the fever
dancing across my skin
as your fingers trace
the outline of my deepest secrets,
mysteries lodged in seductive breaths
Sweet air murmurs in erotic whispers
Your love my opiate, addictive enchantment
Stimulated senses heightened
Sundrenched moans, silver lined
adrift on satin sighs
Floating delirious within
hallucinogenic eyes,
seducing my mind in eternal desires
Thoughts mingle in reflective desires
Trance infused emotions
cling to each nuance of mesmeric longings
Swirling smoke ringlets
penetrate whispering décolletage,
culminating in lustful motives
atop gilded sheets
immersed in our rapture,
etched in euphoria, drenched...
in a dream called passion
Good night Soupers
Within the twilight of the witching hour,
where dreams mingled with reality,
your tongue, a sacred blade, flicks me open—
each unspoken word unfurling from your lips
presses against the ache of mine like a spell.
And I gasp—
my lungs filled with stardust sighs,
as explosions of nebulae grace the dark behind my eyes.
"The clouds parted like the pursed lips of desire".
In the gravity of your kiss, I taste the cosmos,
each particle a hymn of knowing:
there is no holier truth
than to be drawn into your orbit.
The hallucinogenic hymnal hums low,
and secrets spill from me like sacred offerings,
stoking the fire of our ritualistic ravaging.
Our souls swirl with stardust and cosmic lust,
entwined in divine disarray,
beaming through a haze of shimmering particles.
Essence entangles like twin serpents—
coiled hemipenes locked in a celestial trance,
rekindling the ancient flame.
I stitch my lifelines into your skin, silver-threaded,
a living scripture written in shimmering ink.
Within this realm of halcyon hymns,
we are a sensual sonata,
notes melting into ether
as we dissolve, waiting
for the encore of reincarnation.
Our new bodies form
from the shards of broken constellations,
and we descend once more
through heaven’s opalescent gate—
hopeful that fate's hand, in quiet mercy,
will place us again
into each other’s sacred embrace.
They say there is a rose garden that blooms inside us now and again.
I remember how your breath was so sweet I wanted to swallow it
Whole – gobbling up your gasping wind – to drown my screaming
Passion, ignited by your soft molasses coated tongue, with the scent of rose
Blossoming inside me, where my blood rushed your love home – yes!
Later I thought how strange it was, that it could last for so long, with me,
Still breathing after you had left – for three days – I was exhaling your fumes!
But, that memory was not distressing, no! Mildly hallucinogenic; it was swirling
There in my blood, like the alcohol that washes away your scent – sometimes –
Life is like searching a beer garden for a bottle of aphrodisiac potion you’ve lost.
What’s more troubling is that all the other flowers continue to bloom.
On the street, it is known as “angel dust” colloquially.
It has a formal moniker in pharmacology.
The name is rather long, but is abbreviated to “PCP”
It was first synthesized as a dissociative anesthetic.
Among its side effects, it is hallucinogenic.
More seriously, to the nervous system, it is toxic.
Junkies can inhale it, ingest it, or it can be smoked.
With its use, the brain is adversely provoked.
What are often produced are hallucinations.
Sometimes, the drug fashions delusions.
There is numbness of pain, but distortions of reality.
This cannot be anything to use for you or me.
Thanks to wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Robert Pettit
October 8, 2012
For Gail’s “Angel Dust” contest.
"DMT (Dimethyltryptamine) is a hallucinogenic tryptamine drug that occurs naturally in many plants and animals. It is also referred to as the "spirit molecule" due to the intense psychedelic experience."
...but in the poetic world or my world, it stands for Dimensional Mind Transference...Do not try this at home Boys & Girls...unless you get a mind-meld from Son of Spock lol...
This is my first attempt at a ~ Triple decker internal monorhymed reversible in an alliteration format...the first, middle and last words are monorhymed...in alliteration form and can be read backward...
No DMT was used in the making of this poem...well lol
Regulating realities restraining regularities ruling
Creating concepts constraining consumptions choosing
Alternating anomalies abstaining algorithms assuming
Pulsating parallels pertaining paradigms pursuing
Imaginations inventing inspirational insightful imagery
Vibrations virtual visitational viewing vicinity
Foundations fluctuating formational Fibonaccical facsimile
Sensations stimulating sensational sensorial symmetry
This verse can also be read backward
Jan.14.2020
Winged Warrior...^WW^
Not for contest
Send me your crazy
You’re lazy
The hallucinogenic hazy
The sick mother F***ers
Who wanna see you pushing daisies
Gimme your sinners
Gimme your saints
Gimme that 9 you use to fix problems
You claim to never propagate
You got no patience
You got no hope
No way to cope
The only skill you offer
Is slinging something to smoke
Be it from a barrel or pipe
Your failure is F***ing ripe
So whacha gonna do?
Join me in the grave?
Or live in a cage?
Either way you’re a slave of rage
The deeds of yesterday
Write today’s page
Is this sinking through the layers of insanity?
Or is it blinded by worthless vanity?
Come tell me your sad tale
Your miserable story
Your existence that you fail
It’s ok that you’re worthless
It’s ok that you’re hollow
It’s quite easy to see
That it’s evil you follow
From the beginning
To the present
You never had a chance
It was always failure
That you had to romance
I don’t blame you in your need
To feed your greed
Though I do question your methods
Upon which you proceed
Do you ever look at the pattern that you follow?
Indeed nothing new
And quite violently hollow
Ever wonder if you’re better than trash?
Or is the need for quick satisfaction
Seem rash?
I have always wondered
About the need for recognition
Is it really satisfying?
To recognize one’s self addiction?
Thoughts to contemplate
Of your self worth’s fate
A lifelong pursuit
Of green paper’s debate
Such a trivial pursuit
I rate
Eric (and sometimes not)
Atonement
Words laden with regrets spilled over profusely
Regurgitating blobs of ancient narcissistic deed
Awaken realization for vanity obfuscates reality
Enchanted by the force of hallucinogenic greed
To gyrations life dances oblivious towards time
Sparks amidst a storm ignites portentous skies
As Earth navigates apathy decimates the clime
Incredulous eyes evokes counsel from the wise
When youth ebbs spider webs embellish a face
Engrained memories from yesteryear reappear
The future herald adversities he must embrace
Bestowed clemency atonement overpower fear
08/21/2018
11:34 p.m.
Aboard "Vision of the Seas"
Cruising toward Mykonos, Greece
Speedier than lickety-split
Ready to jump tall structures in a hit
More powerful than an electric bolt
In a solitary bounding jolt
Look up in the sky!
It's a creature, lowly flying high
Think, it's a robot, I admit
Hmm, what is it?
Our own selves underneath, the vapid worn-out drapes
Hallucinogenic lights enlightening our shapes
Howbeit, the quiet mumble, hereupon
And the hum buzz wavering, of hanger-on
Murmuring about outside within sight
Their sharp edges cutting the night
It employs a spying eye
Every which way of the sky
By itself/oneself freaking out
Not realizing what could be about
All by one's lonesome, can't unwind at all
The observation in awe 'n appall
Tis' gathering data on- I for one and you
It's looking at all that we do
Why goodness- gracious, I bemoan
Why Yes! It's a DRONE!...
(an All Poetry feat to walk in
the poetic feet of Robert Frost)
Bucolic New England, circa
Early twentieth century New England
awash with dynamic harmonic leisureliness,
when much of North America favored rustic
visual whirled wide webbed watercolor
waiting afield at dusk, the thrum
of nature all abuzz didst feed thine
dizzily green jovial mien
unlike mean Gary Lewis
veritable innocence and naiveté
rollicked with mine lanky frame
relishing ambling into my own quietude
an infinite breadth, length and scope
of infrequently trammeled near virgin
woodland paths grown over with brambles
nonetheless a faintly trussed harbinger
marked by weatherbeaten
for sale signposts
with here and there an abandoned plow
long since given over
to rust when the pasture
seasons elapsed since
farmer(s) left unharvested
fecund fields absent
the cloven hoof,
and deprived enrichment
manure, sans ungulates
ceased sufficing healthy
free ranging bovines,
where etudes punctuated
the terribly gross fresh air,
now no longer audibly quickening,
snapchatting, nor twittering
with the last word of a bluebird
deathly silence now 'cept
the wind in the willows
whispering woebegone laments
tree tops pining to cradle
idle youthful dreamers
boughs devoid of
psalm quivering romantic songstress
clattering debris merely
delivering echoed whooshing refrains
continually disintegrating among
in a disused graveyard
prescient ken aches with nostalgia
hallucinogenic nightmare slams
irrevocably shut the door in the dark
closed for good upon the onset,
wrought genocide against
the vanishing Red man,
a ghostly scarification meaningless ritual
wrested, removed, and highjacked
from indigenous peoples
without rhyme, nor reason
as fraternities no
longer pledge allegiance.
How can one fathom the most curious emotion of love?
Some ride the very idea of romance their entire existence. Straddling along the
bareback spine of annoyance and tyrannical and zealous possessiveness.
To allow one's self to derive hope and idealistic success, from an originally prescribed
placebo- concocting happiness. Or so we think, as mind-blocked as we are from
voracious persistence. Blocked upon block, upon block.
Tempting the sheer catastrophic gal of aggravated ignorance. We play the fall game
upon a field of cacti, and this emotion seems to captivate our consciousness at a
hallucinogenic level allowing us to drop. Drop. Drop...effortlessly.
It appears to be so minute in a realistic importance, love, but in actuality, it weighs
down more than half of our humanistic ideology -consequently, a cataclysmic downpour
of unfathomable preponderance. Fathomable by the most blissful of minds..