Bewitching of the falling hours, true ascendance found
By this chance to rise, I have real transcendence found
Your lips find a way to see me; two eyes make the voice
No tears I shed, you're being seen; no disruptence found
I'm stunned; are you a living form of ketamine?
It can't be; you touched me, I am not convenience found
Your eyes are the stars, hard to be lost, but lost; I am
Sailing toward the view; we are their convergence found
Hold no obligation, you repair this damaged heart
You are flame eternal for me; no dissidence found
The Election result is a kill-joy
And has a man made a boy:
A result so blunt I’m trying ketamine;
That should my recovery determine
My BP should’ve been key issue
And its treatment a Toilet Tissue …
A woman has captured my capital
And what’s next if not Hospital?
The whole stuff taken to any doorstep
And claiming to have watched my every step …
My eyes have been fed humbling scores,
Another shutting of my political doors
An angering spread sheet on my lap
Underscoring my defeat by a gap.
And I swear animals what these portend,
Birds to laugh if I do them contend …
Right now A chairwoman Elect!
And they wouldn’t me select.
Already, I can see her sky-scraping head gear
And celebratory fanfare in high gear
Artificial eye-lashes one can glimpse from hundred meters
And music-powering generator with hundred litres …
And guess I’m emigrating to Dakar
Or to far-off fourth Africa
Or perhaps nearer Niamey …
No eye-lashes wearer will chair me.
pus oozes from the swollen gum near my cheek
the pain is not enough to convince me
"it's mostly oxygen" they cry
covering my face with laughing gas
it doesn't work, I am still awake
"your appointment is at 3" they say
the 5 o clock hour rolls around
"are you ready yet?" they ask
I keep my mouth shut tight
Mom is with me this time
frustrated because dad is done
it's the first time she stood up
since I was in kindergarten
they offer me a tour of the room
wrestling with 3 nurses and a dentist
one blocks the door as I make a mad dash
holding me down ripping my sweater off
I know I'm in for it
screaming only makes it hurt worse
"count down from one hundred" 99 ... 98
Ketamine with no IV is fast
I wake up dreaming in the truck
"you looked dead to me"
my mother says as I lay on the couch
Watching the tapestry of horses
"I'm speaking through the horses mouths"
I say, with the horses trotting around
their mouths move as they graze and drink
out of the pond that is in our living room
I quite like being knocked out.
I’m a unique specimen,
made of mescaline and ketamine.
And the last living resident,
of an intergalactic settlement.
Burnt to the ground,
by time travelling middlemen.
I came with the cannon,
aiming only to try and bury them.
And when I aim for their president,
I will not miss my friend.
Now I’ve done the job,
I will disappear again.
Like the last living remanence,
of a long forgotten culture.
Disappeared too quickly,
picked at by the vultures.
Bones into dust,
Picked up by the wind.
And we never knew the story,
cause we’re never taught a thing.
Meet the psychedelic poet,
trying to live stoic.
He’s earmarked for death,
and he doesn’t even know it.
I’ve met alcoholic authors,
with bongs in their hands.
Staring out of the windows,
cause they’re awfully prang.
I remember nights doing pipes,
but now my mind is sober.
But eternally restless,
seeking some final closure.
The makeshift king,
searching for the evidence.
I am seeking refuge
And my mind needs the medicine.
Wretched thrives going at rapid speeds
Spreading lines like ill manic seeds
Fanatic flowers attacking whack salad weeds
Hoeing each line with a cocaine breeze
I sneeze and tease these cursive lines with ease
Herbs dipped in asinine with the blue cheese
Cheddar mixed with ketamine, fed my epiphany if any.
Thoughts ready to go steady. Aim fire bang goes the confetti.
The anger I feel, it currently rains
Its the fuel that drives my reigns
It pumps my blood through my veins
Breaking the skin at times, leaving stains
It builds, increases, stacks and never ceases
It pumps, courses, I never know the reason
It needs to halt, wait, stop before the creases
Rip, tear, show too much wear. It is like treason
But regardless it is not speed, or an aphrodisiac
And it is not a drug for an insomniac
It is not a synthetic made craft like ketamine or crack
It is pure rage. It is natural born. It is my Amphetamine, in fact.
Neronero
April 9th, 2019
Flipping through the pages
Skimming the dried ink
So many questions it raises
Oh, the many things I think
Who are these young faces
And where are they, today
Though they left many traces
Green, they couldn’t stay
The smell of aged paper
Nostalgia hits my nose
20th century flavor
Ketamine and blow
They wrote of their “tomorrow”
But that was yesterday
I feel a bit of sorrow
They’ve surly passed away
I compare them to myself
And ponder my demise
Tucked away on a shelf
Live all these hopeful eyes
Bombarding the bong like oxygen is wrong
drinking alcohol like you’re a bottomless hole,
The speed the base the MDMA
the pace of life wastes you away
cocaine and ecstasy
next day looking wrecked to me
Ketamine replaces vitamins
face changes, unrecognisably
Why buy more supplies
When supplies die off
and you die slow
Unhappy unless under the influence,
life caught up in the drug undertow
Shattered, busted
Broken pieces
Sinner, lusted
Crisco creases
White noise
High pitched screams
Girly boys
Wet dreams
Blood red stains
Off white gown
Pistol rings
Chalk on ground
Lethal needles
Veins blown
Better feels
Than being stoned
Strip club love
STDs
Ketamine rub
Nose bleeds
Masked face
Girl at gunpoint
Steps retraced
Blow this joint
Hep C
Painted skin
Deadly
Seven sins
A conscious effort
by the constrained
creates nothing.
Devoid of inspiration,
enraged egotists find
fault in selfless pursuit of
glory.
Hampered by the
infancy of others,
jettisoned memories of
ketamine disassociation allow
lies to fester.
Myopic interludes of
nihilistic pleasure
only serve to
profundicate the
questionably sane
revolver in my hands
sublime speech on world peace.
There is no sense left
under the cross.
Violins are broken,
weapons formed while
xylophone keys shatter
Yale’s prestige as king of the
zoo.
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