Best Mycelium Poems
Remembering when
Perched high above on rocky crags
Cliffs weathered by times handprints
I saw far and wide to distant shores
Tendrils of desire radiating outwards
Riding the briny mist
Being carried by the breath of the ocean, my constant companion
Hearing the distant voices, the silent tears
The bursts of passion ~ love and loss
I ride the wings of hope and change
Towards the beckoning landscape of
Creation, mystery, and nuance
A vibration fills the air
The quiet chanting of our ancient brothers and sisters
Their words floating in effervescent bubbles
Tinged with melodies so clear
We are one ~ We are here
Let us bathe you in light
Let us heal your wounds
Let us give you hope
We are all mirrors of one another
We share one breath
We are connected like the mycelium under the ground
Our journey is peaceful
Come to us with your pain, your heartache,
Your fear and your loss
We are here to listen
Our ears and hearts are open
You have come to a safe sanctuary to reveal your secrets
Your darkness, your desires, and your bliss
Without judgement
This is a time of renewal
Tiny green hummingbird lays lifeless on the ground
Surrounded by new life
Glittering musical notes sound as
Pink butterflies gather
Gentle wind of wings bringing change
Warm rain falls as we make our way
Through the kaleidoscopes of turquoise, teal, lime and chartreuse
Sunlight reflections
Moss, furry seedlings, and ferns
Intertwine dancing in the shafts of light
A steady illuminated procession
Sweat running down our bodies
We are a train of humanity pushing forward
Through the dense moist jungle
Coming upon a clearing to witness
The newborn baby girl wrapped in velvet greenery
A majestic glowing beacon shining her light
On all of us
Howling
The chatter of monkeys as they scramble down limbs to join us
We feel her heartbeat
We meld into one another seamlessly
Swaying gently in unison
To honor, rejoice and celebrate
Receiving the gift of what it is to be human
Slowly the child is lifted into the air
Aloft on fingertips of joy
The Circle of Life begins
And we return to the simple act
Of loving and giving to one another
Into eternity
es
Mushrooms,growing, out of the ground,fleshy
white,stems soft some hard some brittle.blue,
reds and greens,gills, pores.scales,poisonous
some, deadly, medicine, edible, delicious
expensive
mycelium
I love mycology
spores
colorful
helpful
fruitful
Hypha
woods
Magic
bitter
morels
Amanita
puffballs
Oysters
Boletus
psilocybe
psychedelic
Shelf fungi
good food
yuuuuuum
es
I need to write some deep
Stuff
Like how people do not know how
Important it is
To
Know yourself
And
Think for yourself
And know that you
Are what you are
And even if they clone your cell
You are still uniquely you
Even if you are a bee
Accidentally landing on manure
Instead of the flower petal-
Off from which you fell
You are still a bee.
How deep is that-
You are not a fly
You are still a bee.
Find a stench that
Hallucinates strong
Like musk.
I need to write
Some deep stuff
Like ok they might
Chase, you away from the
Hive
You can still thrive-
Fly, bee- because you can!
Not because you smell
Differently.
Pollinate a mushroom
Growing on cow dung
Psychedelic mycelium
They will welcome you in
As they dance to your
Radiating colors.
Magic mushroom dust
And the scent of perfume
Yeah, that is some deep stuff.
FUNGI
You came as a miracle from
universe to earth from
a universe to earth
First:
we called you what?
Whatever until you told us better
was instilled inside our medulla obbligato –
though you favored our brain,
looked like a medulla obbligato.
Mushrooms only communicates with roots tentacles and spores;
Mushroom you bring good news for those whom pay attention.
Fungi spores high fly.
Underneath the ground we are surrounded.
By the communication of energy exchange.
Kai told me of your plans
As she was tuned in to your frequency.
Kai, mushrooms -mushrooms, Kai- synonymous.
That humongous world of Mycelium.
her gift was interpreting their silent message.
I think of you with every mushroom, seen,
mentioned or thought of.
I think of you with every new break through,
“Kai Kachelle now means mushroom intelligence”.
Fungi spore carry a universal messenger.
Like a Tuber mushroom
an Authoritarian State
thrusts myriad mycelium tendrils
in a vain attempt
to control every contingency.
Like a Fragrant fern
a Constitutional Republic
radiates spores far and wide
to invariably find
the wisest way.
I really think that you want to read on
... why?
well, because
you haven't anything better to do.
you are looking through the looking glass
eye
that has nothing to with "I".
bored
and alone and moving towards
the fridge
for some comfort;
Go and have god bless you
because no Gods are present.
and the music,
the mosaic prevalence
in your membraneous mind
makes you think
like I always think
want to join the ignoramus?
haven't you been here many times?
Spindle of spending
Spores of speaking
mushrooms grow in the mycelium
of monkey aftermath
and i like calculus
Dear Human
I am glad you came to me seeking rede.
Surprised that my intelligence is greater.
and different than yours.-nuff said.
You are wondering how this is possible?
Are species is pan galactic.- plausible.
All cells neuron’s as you scientists surmise ,
Terrestrial cells are 2-20 micro meters in length .Celestials vary in size.
Over time cells on earth grew are called hyphae.
Over cosmic time cosmic cells grew into huge hyphae .and then into hyper intelligence ..
Your more aware scientist think the cosmos
is alive.
.Our species on earth. create an organic network
It did not take much guesswork - just teamwork.,
In space races linked into one mind
A unitary mind -where no soul is blind ,
Before this happens Humans must stop war
Turn weapon into livingry, forever,
And put into practice works of Fuller too
The Cosmic envoys messages are due,
Also the Venus Project is important
If it is wisely installed not discordant,
I read your mind ,Child. .I jest not..
Lastly eating mushrooms are good for you.
Cook them in a pot.
Good for brain bones and flesh too.
Eating Lions Maine improves your brain..
Yours in unity
A Mycelium That Speaks
It attacks our species and genus
Detect trumposaurus meanus
By its orange mane
Its mycelium brain
And its shiitake-stemmed pen!s
12 when I wrote this, from the perspective of a mushroom.
My gills grasping at air, but the grass is not too far;
My scales glimmering stupidly to shine through watered tar.
And in the gaseous tarmac world, I shine here far too bright,
And oh, the air, too stale if for my gills to get it right.
I long to build a house and make a living off of sticks,
Press flowers to make bookmarks. Feather ink dips.
And for one day, to hear ... a knocking or a rattle
Of rats and pigeons at my door. To me, should they grapple
I wished to fly away with birds, claws ripping flesh and all
To find my new roots in the sky: frail, delicate, tall.
I wished to burrow in the ground when I must collapse.
I wish to hide me from the world. I wish for a relapse.
A tingle down my stem, my gills no longer pulchrify
My dirtied shine, my residue: I tell you, "eye for eye."
This vivid tarmac world around me, perfectly reflecting
How little you appreciated when we were worth defending.
I lose myself in nature to be consoled by the characters that stop by to wish me well. I search for my special mushrooms that make me happier than happy.
A little mouse tells me there are more in the wildwood just over the hill.
He runs along ahead of me to show me the way.
I follow on along with my basket. There is a damp mycelium covered log decaying under an old elm. I’m in heaven. My little friend chews on a mushroom and runs off on his way to tell his friends. I am joined by more forest friends as we collect our mushrooms and share in the enchantment.
Where will your words take you?
Do you ever imagine make believe?
Will you join me in my mythical world?
Come take my arm as we walk the path of euphoria and escape into the land of lyrics and lavender.
a carcass is moving
out from the white of the eye it is
so all-consuming
dots form in lines on the absentee spine
dry undefined lumps are soft and infusing
the bruises and rind and the opal contusions
they fire with pus and with derelict mucus that
rises in shape as if living and human
adorned in the fumes as mycelium blooms and pours
wings form from mold stocks that spew from the local pores
leeching the fluids the carcass now wizens forth
reaching the sky with a forest of open sores
sink in the bleak rims of deep skin have peaked
they churn sinkage and reak sin that bleeds from the meat
and it turns as it sings and pulls taught and it dreams
knots drink him and blink in with pinkeye beliefs
I want you to find me in forests,
crawling through bushes and looking for things small
I want you to catch me
while communing with rain, wind and trees.
I want us to be intertwined and inseparable
as branches above and mycelium below.
I want you to kiss me
as drops of rain kiss the leaves,
gently glowing in the light,
with me trembling under your touch
I want you to chase me
down the wild streams
through fields of native grasses and flowers.
I want you to be part of me,
as smell of ancient dirt fills my nostrils
and reaches every fiber of my being.
I want you to hold me in the field,
under the countless stars sparkling like dew in morning,
and with the spirits of ancestors watching over us.
I want you to love me, as artist needs to be loved,
Deeply, freely and unbound,
for me to grow in your safe and warm embrace.
The Mycorrhizal Network
“Flowers fade and decay through wintry hours—waiting for rebirth.”
Beneath the forest’s separate skin,
white threads connect each breathing thing—
fungal highways no eye can witness,
trading sugar for rain.
The Douglas fir feeds the hemlock
when shade has stolen all its sun,
carbon passed from root to root like gossip,
like care without a name.
The mother tree knows when her seedlings starve
and sends them what they need to live—
nutrients flowing through the dark communion
that makes the forest one.
This is the conversation
we mistake for silence up above:
ten thousand root-tips touching, speaking
in the syntax of soil.
When the chainsaw bites through bark and wood,
the network feels the amputation,
chemical alarms flood through the mycelium—
warning: something cuts, something dies.
Soul speak.
Roots spreading.
Mycelium connecting.
Nebulas of purple and blue
Galaxies beating.
Cells dividing,
Lungs expanding.
With a thought,
I create.
I am here.
In the infinite of now.
Twisty Pine
Trying to stand tall
With all scars exposed
Carved and gouged
Like the twisty pines
Bled slowly for their essence
Among a forest of disfigured
Unbandaged
Left to cry out forgotten tears
Of neglected fears
In silent slumbers asleep
Where dreams dissolve like sand
Through an infinity-glass
Dripping sweat into boiling oil
Like sap funneling into a brass cup
All to fuel this ceaseless machine
Called the foolish capitalist scheme
Where we self-victimize
And trust the political guise
To save us from our lies
While committing genocides
Right in front of our very eyes
And we milk the desperate
Chastise the disparate
Falsely loft the corporate
Empower the degenerates
Trying to stand tall
With my guts exposed
Scorched and brittle
Like the twisty pines
Bleeding through the burns
Among a forest of dismembered
Disbanded
Left to wait out the final years
As the inevitable collapse nears
In violent numbers they reap
Where teams divide the land
Like a supremacist class
Skipping threats, despoiling the soil
To tap crumbling veins until she dries up
All to fuel a caustic regime
Call all fools to prop this smokescreen
Time to self-aggrandize
At the cost of innocent lives
Teaching our children to despise
Without knowing where the hate truly lies
Why be real when you can pretend to be wise?
Trying to stand tall
With my roots exposed
Eroded and diseased
Like the twisty pines
Gripping to the ground
Among a forest of fallen
Decomposing
Left to die out with my broken peers
As earthen truth disappears
May my essence travel through the mycelium
Before the planet becomes a mausoleum
Transforming the scheme into a coalescence
Transmuting a dream into future’s presence