Long Psychedelic Poems
Long Psychedelic Poems. Below are the most popular long Psychedelic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Psychedelic poems by poem length and keyword.
It was a cultural revolution, while a world jumped to conclusions
Of mini-skirts, and go-go boots, and psychedelic tensions
The flower child, would smile and sprout communal peaceful versions
about a war, and called it wrong, and marched to have it end.
Mary, Peter, Paul, would sing,... Pete Seeger wrote his songs
While somewhere soldiers fought the throng of distant Viet Cong
The wonder years, had rendered us to march in protest parades
Invading rights, the south would fight against the Ku Klux Klan
Rosa Parks would take a seat and fight for rights of men
her bravery would light the world. .. and sparked a light within
The Beatles sang of "Yesterday", and everything between
"Imagine" if you can at all,.......what peace could ever bring
The evening brewed the Cronkite news, and we believed in him
On distant shores the scores of dead, the dreaded war ensued
A bullet broke the heart of man...
and we would watch a child salute
the father that he loved and knew
struck down beneath,
a Texas sky one cloudy afternoon ...
His uncle too, ...then, Dr. King.....succumbed to hate, such fate would come, as well
The dates we keep with lock and key, and still,....our throats will swell
Yet through the clouds, into the sky....one step for all mankind
Would light the world, again with hope.....and take us to the moon
_____________________________________________________
For Kelly's Contest: Decades
3/4/15
It Must Begin With
And who knows for certain when reality fades into fantasy,
What starts the sylvan sliding, something so beautiful that,
You question the state of being real in this universe,
Everything becomes more radiant, bolder, more perfect than the dream,
Or on the dark side, things are indescribably grotesque.
The chilling evil, the claws with terrifying wings that beat,
Over your dreams to haunt you like demons from the abyss,
Nature itself is fantasy, its flowers that take your breath away,
The stars, the shells, the magnificent trees and yet it also has,
The ugliest lizards, snakes, spiders and insects to terrorize.
Because we need fantasy to understand our true self,
To navigate through the labyrinth of our fragmented consciousness,
Where the beautiful and the hideous dance in perfect symbiosis,
Creating the kaleidoscope of our existence in psychedelic colors,
And reality becomes just an illusion in the theater of our mind.
The sylvan sliding carries us through the forests of the subconscious,
Where each leaf is a memory crystallized in time,
And each shadow hides secrets we dare not name,
The fantastic becomes the refuge where the soul finds its peace,
While reality remains a prisoner in the cage of logic.
It must begin with the acceptance that everything is dream within dream,
That beauty and horror are twin sisters in the cosmic dance,
Nature offers us the mirror in which we see ourselves dual and whole,
And only through fantasy can we touch the purest essence,
Of what we truly are in this ephemeral existence.
Unicorns, witches, hippies, faerie pirates too.
Interspersed among dragons, bunnies, a castle of blue.
Ghostly apparitions that say how do you do?
Strewn around the living room, my art so woo-woo.
Psychedelic colors amazing, and I don’t mean a few.
Come see for yourself. They are such a fancy coup.
Cartoon cats, so lovely, you can almost hear them mew.
Flower power peace signs from nineteen seventy-two.
When I think of painting it turns my heart to goo.
I am looking at my artwork as I stir my own beef stew.
Halloween witches practice a very sexy boo.
Birds among the roses, flutter as they coo.
Many of my women have the exact same hairdo.
Thank goodness my grandchildren number ten in pew.
They will be taking them home when my life if finally through.
Factory Recall
I looked beyond The Open Door
into a mystical Soul Factory
There amidst the unboxed souls
was Invisible Jim and The Ghost.
The ghost’s skin was reflective like a mirror
allowing me to see The Lines on my Face.
The factory was an unusual place
with floors carpeted in Dandelions
At each station angels sang a Star Baby Lullaby
I asked one “What are you doing?”
She smiled and responded
“I am installing a Patriotic Pause.”
An overhead speaker blared
“It is time for Designated Rain,”
I was careful to protect
the Butterfly in My Pocket.
Workers started moving
so I asked “Where are you going?”
“We are Stepping into The Temple.”
“May I ask Why?” “Sure, we are Searching For Jesus.”
So I followed the Girl With The Quiet Voice.
I was unsure How To Feel,
so I began by Lending Both Hands.
It helped in Finding My Way..
I was then joined by The Borrower.
He Was the one Who I Am
but Some Time we’re not Close Enough to Know.
Perhaps I need some Kimo Therapy
I was directed to Rose in The Garden.
Her roots had Deep Inclinations.
Would I Abandon all for This Dark Lover?
She set me on my Memory Go Round.
That place of Painted Ladies and Weeping
There I searched for Guys Advice in a Fools Paradise
Inside of me A Sense of Emptiness,
still she would become my Favourite Mistake.
She Touched The Water and my soul
becoming My Ocean.
Still I have Unanswered Questions
Some might say a Bad Bargain Made.
At the Soul Factory I left behind
my Church Perfect Surface.
In my Minds Eye the Screen Flickers.
Change Ain’t Easy but now I’m Different.
The breeze Whispered Your Name.
While I was looking for Psychedelic Sound!
No I know why I Can’t Get High Enough.
Instead let me rest in a the place of Chaotic peaceful Thoughts.
There I can sit under the Wisdom Tree
and listen to The Quiet One.
That garden where angels do the Butterfly Dance.
I long to languish there in Rainbow Coloured Camouflage.
By Richard Lamoureux
I wrote this one for Charlie’s contest using my titles from past poems. I didn’t read the directions properly so wrote another one that I entered.
Go Go Boy
He’s got the moves
Smooth like vinyl
Without the grooves
Zip zip zap zap
Making those toes tap
The mood’s psychedelic
as the girls scream and clap
Go Go Boy’s so smooth
They’ve gotta groove
Those kinda vibrations
makes Their bodies move
Scrumptious delicious
with free flowing flair
totally toned physique
and slicked back blond hair
He bathes in their screams
as they toss their underwear
A total solar eclipse
Who makes them stare
Go Go Boy
Is going going gone
No encore or extra song
Girls chanting
wanting to sing along
But he leaves them drenched
wanting more
with heat emanating from their core
Adios senoritas
Watch Go Go Boy go
he’s out the door!
PIANIST ALPINIST ON THE PEAK OF NOTHING
The hibernation of evening drinks me in like a wordless song,
my gaze—I tell you!—unspools into the night like a hex drawn long,
a Tuesday without headache—foretold, and pure—a sigh,
bare-elbowed despair still glimmering against the open sky.
An onomatopoeia—a bell that drifts between the shadows,
the resurrection-day of yesterday's summer tumbles into hollows,
are you crueler, star, than my iron loneliness?
you burn inside my pupils—black sky bleeding into the abyss.
That fleeting knowing, the fragrance of a rustic debauchery,
her hermit breasts—silver hills inside a monastic reverie,
criminal magician, honest prestidigitator of the night—
caresses of thighs melting like wax in summer's burning light.
Your Himalaya—and above it a peak of nothing and cold,
pianist alpinist scaling your dream like trigonometry rolled,
fingers outstretched like a psalm toward the sacred abyss—
from your peak of nothing a bud of ecstasy blooms in bliss.
My gaze buries itself in infinity, psychedelic, slow,
the hibernation of evening wraps me in its own lament below,
on your peak of nothing—a silence warm as honey—
pianist of nothingness, alpinist of night and agony.
I Dare You to Steal the Darkness and Sell Your Love
I dare you to steal grains of darkness gathered in the feathers of lonely crows,
The abundance of light to scatter it over the blind who haven't seen for an eternity,
To reinvent words for those who hear nothing but the cruel silence of the world,
And to pawn with butterflies all the mulberry leaves falling in the magic autumn.
I dare you to buy tears from those who aren't loved and drink them like wine,
And to bless your doorstep with all the abandoned children crying in cold nights,
To clothe with your coat those naked of freedom—the slaves of our times,
And to carry like Job all injustice on your back like a heavy psychedelic cross.
I dare you to stay silent with Anna trapped between bricks crushing her breath,
To carry the horizon in your arms with disabled grandparents trembling from old age,
I dare you to have patience with the one who on his cane holds his dignity alive,
Trembling not to collapse in the mud of forgetting and of sad desperation.
To empathize with the hunger of beggars on the road where sweet bread was with jam,
To place the bowl of broth as alms in the cemetery so the dead may be satisfied,
To give them a spoonful of myrrh—to bring them back to life at least in their dreams,
To tax with dew all the morning grass when the fog runs through its knees.
To discover how clouds flee overturning the knees of fog like wounded birds,
To give the plow a wing when you knead the earth's womb—the soil begging for love,
And to light the lamp at the eaves for the lost ones of the world who can't find home,
I dare you to have mercy on all those without mercy—the most lost of all.
To reclaim all the darkness hiding in light like a hidden parasite,
To confess your sins only when you can't commit them—anticipated forgiveness,
To drink comet milk strained in boots—liquid and celestial magic,
I dare you to sell your love to the one without luck—to fall in love with me!
Electric poems reverberated,
Within the walls of a London abode.
A psychedelic haze fueled the gift,
That a creative heart was bestowed.
Far from his broomstick days,
Passionate strums…electrified the room.
Emphasizing the pain from within,
Recalling the days he strummed the broom.
Acid rock...illuminated the winding path,
That led his creative heart to fly.
Good intentions laced by corrosive thoughts,
Inspired the work…from his daily supply.
Guided by his artistic soul,
The frets…fretted to that day.
Captured by a recording device,
Were the anthems…that we replay.
What began in London ended in London,
In the same lonely…workplace room.
He was here that day, then gone the next,
In the blink of an eye, he was gone too soon.
she jokes that she is privileged
sensitive rather than complex
wide open in thoughts and emotions
never alone with her own company
so many question
sometimes even answers
swirling around her mind
on an overdrive of stimuli
every once in a while
in the here and now
of self-talk and enquiry
there are balance and harmony
the dark dog on her shoulder
plays with psychedelic cats
a bit of hissing and growling
and licking of paws
her reality is not one of delusion
rather an onslaught or feast
of unlimited strength or exhaustion
depending on who has the last word
neurodiverse feeling and reasoning
she does not know why she is
the person she has become
but she is grateful and humble
as rhapsodies dance with cacophony
and the drum beats for an anxious heart
she adjusts to the pace and exudes love
in tune with hope and compassion
she is a poem in herself
magical mysterious and delightful
and living proof that multiple voices
bear the chance of being heard
diversity written on her face
no need for mascara or lip stick
rather an unveiled persona
which speaks for herself
09th September 2021
Go ask Alice
When she’s ten feet tall
And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you’re going to fall
Go Ask Alice (Jefferson Airplane)
CHASING ALICE
down the rabbit hole
chasing Alice
i’d not ask her a thing
i’d notice
she’s ten feet tall
but no bigger than a twig
down the rabbit hole
a spiral
of psychedelic things
the queen of hearts
tea and tarts
down the rabbit hole
never hotter
a solid chill
she’s not the center
of the universe
down the rabbit hole
i glimpse her blue dress
her youthful blond hair
tumbling
into space
down the rabbit hole
when will this race
end
when will i ascend
she never will
she’s downing pills
down the rabbit hole
i rub my eyes
i’m seeing things
my eyes open
i’m in bed
i step out
and fall
back in
7/23/2022