They told me it was medicine.
A cure in a capsule.
A little light in liquid form,
a powder path to paradise.
It whispered like honey,
slid smooth down my veins,
said, “I’ll heal your hurt, hush your hunger,
pull the storm from your skull.”
And it did.
Oh, it did.
The world slowed
colors stretched into forever, and my chest unclenched like a fist finally letting go.
But the bottle had teeth.
The pill had claws.
The powder carried a price tag I couldn’t read at first.
Every high built a higher wall.
Every flight carved a deeper fall.
The nectar that kissed me sweetly at midnight
bit me raw by dawn.
It is love that leaves bruises.
A friend who steals your shoes while you sleep.
A healer who poisons the wound so you’ll crawl back begging for the cure.
They don’t tell you the double-edged truth:
that the elixir doesn’t choose.
It cuts both ways
one side silk, one side steel.
And you,
you are the bleeding in between.
So I stand with the glass in my hand,
heart trembling on the rim.
Asking myself
is it medicine?
Or is it blade?
And the silence answers,
“Both.”
Each breath
Cheats death
8 / 22 / 2025.
witch’s elixir
sooths aches and pains and headaches
some doctor with her
she sees remedies
conjured by her night visions
natural healer
To make it on the stage, in this day and age,
I'm convinced, Contacts and Clout are what it's all about.
Woke up this mornin', feelin' all washed out,
went down to the local drugstore, for a bottle of Clout,
the druggist he said, 'Sorry son, we're all sold out.'
Woke up this mornin', feelin' all turned about,
went to my family Doctor, gotta have a bottle of Clout,
he said, 'Ya gotta go cold turkey, you'll have to go without.'
There's no doubt about it, I need a bottle of Clout,
gonna shout about it, 'What d'ya think I need?
'Well, yes indeed, I need me a bottle of Clout.'
Woke up this mornin', feelin' such self-doubt,
went to the nearby Grocer, said, 'Gimme a bottle of Clout.'
She said, 'I'd like to help ya boy, but now, ya just struck out.'
Woke up this mornin', feelin' all burned out,
went to the downtown Dealer, to score a bottle of Clout,
he said, 'You're outta luck man, there's none of it about.'
Yeah, it's an affliction, wish I could lose,
it's my addiction, I got them mean ol' bottle of Clout blues.
Gratitude, a mental notion,
The soul’s healing potion
A daily habit, a practice so true
Seeding joy and peace anew.
With thankful heart and focused mind,
A world of blessings our heart to divine.
Every moment, major or minor,
Is a chance to make the practice finer
Sunrise, sunset, or firmament of stars,
Laughter, tears, even healing scars.
The birds that sing and clouds that dance,
Provide us with yet another chance.
Gratitude, a balm for our pains,
A way to break the past’s cold chains.
It lifts us up, it instills true peace,
A formula for stress’ release.
So let our mind be full aware,
And live life with a grateful air.
For gratitude, the soul’s elixir,
Should forever be our heart fixture.
Come
Ye all
I must feed
My gall with bile
As a narcissist
Enthroned as populist
To efface you in your face
Constantly relentlessly there
Everywhere and wherever you look
With pills to relieve your suffering ills
With no jobs or money to pay the bills
With calls that you will be better soon
Despite inflation price rises
Despite the job cut losses
Despite hurting our friends
Which you label worse
Than enemies
You befriend
For deals
Done
"The morning coffee, like morning dew,
Fresh and soothing, a gentle brew.
Like petrol for cars, it fuels our grind,
A corporate slaves life blood, forever aligned.
In our veins, it flow like life itself,
A daily ritual, a moment's wealth.
We cherish it so, this bitter delight,
Might we mistaken for Elixir, in the
Morning light?"
~Byeol
Water, transparent
Pure, precious
Gold in the presence of the sun
It jumps over pebbles,
Eroding its path
Mustn’t we preserve
This precious treasure?
The magical potion that quenches thirst
With only a portion fresh
Mustn’t we conserve
This golden treasure?
As it drips down,
It converts itself
A soothing sound that begs for help
Mustn’t we save
This great treasure?
It plunges down the falls,
Dashing along the river
Stops at the lovely green lake,
Meets the vast sea at the coast
Freezes at the glacier,
Sprays at the geyser
Mustn’t we retain
This priceless treasure?
A part underground,
The others brimming with salt
A part polluted,
Of plastic partly
Mustn’t we protect
This delicate treasure?
Provides pearls
In its depth
Offers hydration
That makes us glow
Mustn’t we guard
This boon of a treasure?
Without the elixir of life,
The day disaster rains
Droughts and deserts pave their way!
Should the day not arrive,
Mustn’t we help retrieve
This shimmering treasure?
Elixir
The elixir to
extend the duration of
life forever is
tummy roll sweat.
The elixir, the liquid transparent treasure
flowing through the caverns of rocks unto the unfathomable abysmal layers of the Garden,
Replete in rivers, streams, brooks and cascades.
Who gave you all these?
Pensez bien ! Rappelez bien !
Les arbres, les herbs the fauna et flora on the valleys and the peaks of mountains, plains and prairies, the largest Fishery that surrounds this civilized planet with its trillions of schools , fleets and herds; and the oasis at the vast stretches of dreadful deserts.
Who gave you all these?
Pensez bien ! Rappelez bien !
La Lune et le Soleil - the queen and the king of the heavenly orbit and the million minions of celestial celebrities with their ceaseless service and servitude turning the canopy unto a kaleidoscope beyond comparison.
Who gave you all these?
Pensez bien ! Rappelez bien ! Praise the Lord and preserve the prize !
Ça, n'oubliez pas !
Sometimes,
looking back
shows a distorted image;
a mere reflection of yesteryear,
filtered through the lens of today.
What once was will never be again,
too many lost years and spent emotions
have muddied the waters of recollection;
and so, nothing appears as clear as it did.
We all pander to fragile egos and pride
and that often works to our detriment;
especially when young and naive.
Rusty, fragmented memories
can cut as deep as any knife;
draining the heart of love
and the soul of hope.
The past is an elixir
of distilled doubts,
mixed with pain,
love and hate;
a volatile
intoxicating
brew of emotions.
And hope often drowns
within just such concoctions;
treading water in yesterday's tears.
Flowers boasting lavender hues
Send fragrant messages through the air
Hoping for a butterfly's kiss
Golden winged butterflies
Are drawn to the fragrance
And delight in the taste of this treasured elixir
4-30-2024
When the smell just hits you
As you walk through the door
And you just want to collapse
And crawl under the floor
Your stomach starts heaving
And you just start to think
I’m just going to die if
I have another drink
Then you see the little bottle
I’m its brown paper twist
And soon after feel the effect
Of its herbal healing kiss
And thanks to Underberg
The drinkers amazing friend
You’ll likely still be standing
At another heavy nights end.
The recipe’s a guarded secret
But its effects so well know
It should be awarded
A Nobel Prize of its own
Raise a glass to Underberg
Helping a night go as planned
When at the start of the evening
You felt you could barely stand.
Tiny seed slumbering beneath.
It Awakens as it spirals out of the soil
Bursting through the ground
Reaching the sky above
It finds itself a giant above the earth.
Budlings bloom on its branches.
Tiny buds slowly bear fruit.
Squirrels snatch to bury away.
Do not realize the true worth.
The fruit that will bear when given time to grow.
Summer bids farewell
Leaves exchange their slender green
For crisp autumn colors
Fall makes itself at home.
Crimson apples nestled upon branches
Shining like rubies in the sunlight
What a perfect time to harvest
Such succulent, sweet things.
How you've longed for this day
From being tiny budlings to shining gems
Now, you strip away your beauty
Rendered into pulp like a caterpillar
Undergoing a metamorphosis.
Broken down and liquified
There's no need to cry
For your sweet nectar
Is given new life
Into a juicy delight.
Little apples you once were
Now, you've become so much more
Within a vial that tickles the senses
Your ambrosiac flavor brings joy
To warm the soul on a cold autumn day.
Written: October 23, 2023,
_____________________________________
A staunch surrender in a twilight embrace.
My mind is a hammock, swaying in the space.
Dictated dream and lingering shadow.
Petal radiance with an evanescent shallow.
A passion fragrance, an aroma elixir.
A dulcet mellifluous flavor floods flicker
My heart's cynosure, an angelic sanitorium.
With lissome poise, a sublime emporium.
In the depths of my soul, a radiance glows,
Scattering impressions as the wind blows.
Reminisce on the whispers of crumpled stars,
Silently sprinkled across the night's memoirs.
Emollient whispers of a forbidden dance,
Furtive and fleeting, a forbidden glance.
I fear the allure of this elixir spell,
Yet the felicity it brings, I cannot quell.
The flavor of surrender, fraught with desire,
A taste of ecstasy, a blazing fire.
Akin to fugacity, it lingers on my tongue,
A fleeting moment, yet forever young.
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