An ant on a hallucinogen
thought he had the strength of fifty men,
so, the little arthropod mighty-might
challenged me to a fair fight.
Let that be a warning, crazy kids, to you,
lest you wind up on the bottom of a shoe.
I don’t need a gruff, a beard, to point the way.
I sea! I sea!
The silken waves lapping over me,
my memory
of what lies in the deep, in the dark ebb
and flow. I sigh, I glow!
O Captain, I’d lean in.
O parrot, on the thick-skinned.
I sea! I sea!
The moon dives in the water.
The sun cannot
lighten up the oil spill,
the spell of the salt-hallucinogen.
Do the waves themselves swim,
alive, ready to capture
me, in the throes
of an arch-frenemy?
The cool sparkle, the invitation -
I sea…I sea!
Pull me under…
I have been called a hippy dippy;
Transient, I travel when I can,
to me mellow flow is so groovy;
Traveling from city to city,
that flower child who lives in a van;
I have been called a hippy dippy;
My spirit’s always been a gypsy;
With a tie dyed hand sign it began,
to me mellow flow is so groovy;
Cliche’ but I’m known to hug a tree,
nature is my hallucinogen;
I have been called a hippy dippy;
On the water I drift dreamily
aboard a laid back catamaran,
to me mellow flow is so groovy;
So chill unrefined far out at sea;
Ya dig? I’m all about peace man;
I have been called a hippy dippy,
to me mellow flow is so groovy.
Standing at the edge of forever
as one thought leads to hell
for I stare at the empty never
the other to a heavenly dwell
I must choose before the eyes of infinity
my soul torn between the hallucinogen hollow
passing through the vector vicinity
where dreams are created for me to swallow
Seeing visions of a hellion hive
soon thoughts fill with divinities divine
a conspiratorial conscience before I dive
where ambient angels dance and dine
Still I must choose before the end of time
a perplexing panegyrical pantomime.
Sept.16.2019
Crossroads Poetry
Sponsored by: Silent One
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
Down the rabbithole of self.
Pride's snickering-cajole waits in the wings, unmoved, unperturbed
by my prior resistant strains.
My fingerprint residue a ghost
in the remains.
In hallucinogen haunting of k-hole,
flaunting a devouring maw.
How it's juices stain.
In lust's wormhole ride-inside a black hole.
I find-
Turned out like a mirror inside.
In a maze of my brain in a
Labyrinth again.
Her.
Idolatry.
Tempting me to come deeper.
Into her-
Inseminatry.
To burn in the fire.
Rolling in forbidden desire.
In debted emnity, I remain Prodigal,
chasing the dragon's offspring and swallowing my own tail.
In a vicious circle.
Like a cursed marriage ring.
Music is my high,
Soda is my drink.
Sugar is my ecstacy,
Laughter is my drunkeness.
Anime is my anti-drug,
Strobe lighting is my LSD.
Dreaming is my hallucinogen.
Imagination is as psychedelic as I can get.
Being with family is when I'm as relieved as I can get.
Happiness is as sober as I can get.
Masturbation is as stimulated as I can get.
Orgasming is when I am as relaxed as I can get.
Poetry is my coping mechanism,
Art is my creative outlet.
Writing is my addiction,
Reading is my inhalation.
Exercise is my steroid,
Food is my shrooms,
Cooking is my sniff.
Gaming is as tripped out as I can get.
Being with friends is when I'm as hyped as I can get.
Depression is as down as I can get.
Inner strength is as strong as I can be addicted.
Internet browsing is as stoned as I can get.
Dancing is my adrenaline,
Overtiredness is my hangover.
Cake mix is my acid,
Sparkling juice is my booze.
Soberity is my perspective,
Shopping is my drug-dealing.
Healthy as can be, drugs not for me.
Ti Bon Ange (Small Little Angel)
A small little angel looking over an edge,
Its eyes wide, alive in wetness and peering.
From a cliff it overlooks an undulating plain that,
sweeps, spreading before its eyes forever seeming,
looming, fiercely wild, provocative, even strange.
This small little angle spies a moving form,
the forms grace of movement engages the angel’s core.
The angel’s vision pierces the far distance off,
the forms mobility morphs, blinking into shifting profiles;
in yearning and desire the angel aspires to be thus.
Every nail craves a hammers striking blow,
as every fire finds its life from flaming spark.
Soul on the look out, intently watchful,
with experience dreams fluidly flow forward,
in kind, knowledge accrues like sand on a beach.
The small little angel directs its tenacious approach,
associated heartfelt action declares its course.
Sentiment slinks back in diminishing outline,
an hallucinogen of auric glow alights, proclaiming freely;
mind, body, spirit, in bold consumption.
Forget the idolatry-
mirage-making lucid hallucinogen
Leaving a head ache quaked dust bin
Where fertile veins go
Be called in the presence of
To stand back and react
Is a twisted affair indeed
Language
Is to voice
Is to body breathing/mind dreaming
A soul on its path
To reach its hidden mission
The world show
Recedes and fades
Like shadows in the woods
Life is for the daring
Deep sea diver
Blazoned with faith to continue on
It grows in the desert on cacti.
It needs the heat and colorful sky.
Adventurers love what it brings.
Its a plant that can make you see things.
You feel like you are dancing with a star,
but you have no clue where you are.
They open up your mind to new dreams,
but they can also open up your screams.
Time will slow down and you'll wonder if this is real.
Then you might move around like an electric eel.
This brings more than just a hallucinogen,
it can bring you something called zen.
When you are out there, beware of the coyote,
because he might ask you for some of your peyote.
A psychoactive
Mushroom, famed for being a
Hallucinogen
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-6.php
I would like to thank you for your visit.
I have removed these poems for a distant future book publication.
I believe we poets, can make a difference
in this world. We live in the 21st century,
we have tools( technology), we have our past, and imagination.
We just don't have the courage, because
I guess most are afraid to fail, to loose money.
All I have to say is we can't take money with us,
when we die. I also say hasn't mankind failed enough,
and isn't mankind worth the effort, our children is worth the effort..
Thank you, and my your God Bless you
John E WordSlinger