I'm a caterpillar on a snail-back ride.
I've approached mushrooms from every side.
From every angle, they're just the same.
It's radial symmetry (in a name).
The only good sides a mushroom's got 'em
is the top and also the bottom.
In the 1970’s, merry mushroom canisters were offered by Sears Roebuck
Many of us put them into our wish lists, along with a sponge-holding duck later I learned that mushrooms meant pot, but at first I did not know
I cherished these canisters for their earthy whimsy; I truly loved them so….
So nervously, upon this earth I tread.
Don't let me, again, go out of my head.
My fragile mind persisted yet unbroken,
ignoring all harsh words as they were spoken,
until shattered with a sickening shriek.
Done in, I was, as I heard a mushroom speak.
Mushrooms don't have many frills,
but they seat frogs and they have gills,
so, I don't dismiss them out of haste,
especially considering their taste.
our home grown monarch
shall swing open war's hell gate~
h r
s o
u o
m m
c l o u d s
i n
b l
o o m
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.
Once upon a magical evening an enchanted fairy I happened to see
dressed in a fantastical dress with two dappled wings of lace,
she shone like the midnight sun;
I must confess, she looked rather whimsical
sitting there by a green wooden door, waiting for your lore!
As I sat upon a huge mushroom her eyes grow large and wide,
looking me up and down in my new purple lace dress.
The enchanted fairy said; I have only seen purple in my dreams,
never in real life or in a pretty lace purple dress.
As we sat and talked she offered me some hot tea,
she stirred the tea with a red and pink spotted leaf.
Before I knew it I was fast asleep,
in slow motion I waved to my new enchanted fairy friend.
She was dancing in purple dreams in other realms,
guess this pretty world was what she was talking about.
Millions are bowing to a mushroom God
who guides them down paths of pyrite and blackness
Minds falsely expanding into an unexplainable universe
with things mechanically terrifying and satiny glorious.
Sprouting waxy wings, soaring into new unrealities
searching-always searching for that elusive something.
With the infinite textures of war and flavors of human suffering...
who can blame them for at least trying.
I fear for my friend and his diamond mind
he's cracked the shadow of this mushroom God
I fear that after his great mind expansion
there will come a greater mind contraction.
His softening mind slipping into a jagged rabbit hole.
Meanwhile a million holy books are garnished with
coffee ring halos and the stench of miracles ignored.
The colors of the flowers are vibrantly swaying
The wind caresses them it seems with kisses,
whispering sweet nothings inside cheery cores
Daisy’s white pearly petals are speaking
Yellow sepals smiling, too yellow! Spiky discs
spinning peeking at me as I subtly study them
Dance little flower dance so alive,
I just want to hug and squeeze you
until you feel all this love as well
colors so vibrant
turned on, tuned in, so alive ~
I feel so much love
Have you ever seen a mushroom fairy ring? It is
interesting to see how they grow in a complete circle. There are some myths and stories about the fairy ring. I thought I would write this poem.
MUSHROOM-FAIRY RING
Mysterious mushrooms - secret fairy ring,
It's where the fairies gather,
All together they dance and sing..
The circle of the mushrooms,
In a pattern that they form.
Look all around,
Different types of mushrooms galore!!
In a deep dark forest,
In the woodlands they appear,
Fairies gather around the circle,
Whispering their magic, they cheer!!
So many types of mushrooms,
Such unique patterns that they display,
Popping up from the ground,
Growing everywhere, each and every way.
The fairies meet, casting spells and having fun
Beneath the silver moon and stars,
The magic has just begun!!
Once I passed by a road wearing
a uniform like soldier
it was kind of a day
I could not remember
later on when coming back home
I found a mushroom and interpreted
that it was all either lightening
or darkening.
he is short, but cute, the pink-haired teenager said to me.
I turned and looked and gave her a friendly tee-tee-hee.
That is the mushroom stealer, I know this guy well.
He stole all of the mushrooms from my Aunt Lucy Bell.
The girl turned and said “I can give you some ‘shrooms”.
The guy disappeared, with two weird sonic booms.
“What happened?” she asked me, her face a weird pink.
“he only likes to steal them, “ I told her, his name is Wink.
She waited for him to return, but he never came back.
I heard he is stealing ‘shrooms hither and yon in Hackensack.
Perry's Disinclination for Mushrooms
A mushroom is not something new
Inside some pasta or a stew.
But, when it comes to feeding Perry,
A mushroom is extraordinary!
John's Surgery
An eyeball must be a perfect sphere.
If an imperfection should appear,
A handy doctor, not ham-handed,
Will use his head and have it sanded.
Itchy Fingers?
I don’t mind dying in a nuclear war.
As long as it’s quick, not a lingering bore.
It’ll give the elite a chance to see the cloud.
Kill off the plebs in a crimson shroud.
I know their fingers are itching.
To press the oblivion button.
See what happens,
from Moscow to Sutton.
and all the places in between,
They’ll watch it from their bunkers.
All the beautiful people I mean.
The psychopaths who own us
And control our pointless lives.
We the workers who feather their hives.
So, press it Musk, Trump, Putin and all else
Hidden in your bunkers focusing on self.
Obliterate the world.
And the useless kind
You can do it to me.
I really don’t mind.
David Cox 27/02/24
How would I find the Wizen Goo?
Follow the colorful mushroom trail said Boo.
But I have never seen it! She said, feeling blue.
Some cannot, he admitted, I cannot help you.
The mushroom trail was put in by the fey.
In the middle of the forbidden forest so gray.
Some cannot see it, they cannot find the way.
The ones who do are merry and gay.
Related Poems