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SWIdr has found out that alot of poems, which listened to when high on certain substances, can create a deep meaning to the person. Also SWIdr enjoys writing poetry about drugs and the culture when he is high. Of course not all of them sound so good when sober, but occasionally someone creates a nice dope poem which can give insight when high or sober. If SWIY has any poems that SWIY created when high, or just a plain drug poem, please post it here so you can get insight and see what other people think about it. If you post someone elses material please give credit to them.
Last edited by ~lostgurl~; 18-08-2007 at 04:39.
Swim has some material, but he doesn't especially want to share here at the moment. Maybe in the future if he ever accomplishes his planned MDMA poetry writing session.
Below is a poem he read in an altered state of mind recently. Its a fairly well known poem, and doesn't have anything to do with drugs, but swim will post it anyways, as he felt it had very strong implications in regards to the drug war and other aspects of contemporary society, and it really made him think hard while his mind was altered.
First They Came
by Martin Niemöller
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.
""Never wining, but never Losing
Seems the wrong choices i am always choosing
Anahydrous and Lithum, Acid And Salt
I dident creat the formula, Who's at Fault?
Surgical tubing, fish pump and awhole lot of pills
about 7 hours later, ya GoT the ShiT that slowly Kills
Hotels To Motels, Differnt Bed and differnt sheets
Im surrounded by Empty pill boxes and Loved by speed freaks
Wide mouth Masons, Every where i look
Sometimes i feel like hitin the ether with acid when i cook
everyone anxicious, biting thier nails
Hopen ill be done soon so they can snort their rails
Somtime i wonder if this is someones Wrath
as i scrap the jars i swear i can hear the devil laugh
1 day 2 day's 3 days 4, 7 days, 10days 11 mabey more
this Shit will turn a virgin into a dirty whore
Some call it a Gift i Know its a curse
Add my product to your life, to lower its worth
Mabey someday i'll stop, but still nothing would END
Some one would learn the tecnique, So it starts Once again""
Last edited by iFeaRNLoathiNg; 13-12-2006 at 03:40.
Reason: dident swim
Apply the pressure, drastic measures make the innocence fall
One shot to the head, as it fled, it made me beg and crawl
I can't stop the thunder in my mind, so who controls the storm?
I filled my body full of crank and dank to keep it warm
Please stop the ocean, Lord the ocean's what I'm born to be
My mind's on overdrive, Too bad these lessons are never free
Please set me free from all the enemies that haunt my mind
Why do the righteous, and the poor suffer all the time?
My kids mother talks to me, and tells me, "Please stop the things your doing"
Working hard all day, trying to make my pay now how you think I'm feeling?
What's on my mind, is sad looks on so many faces
and that’s before getting hit on some drug cases
Never really knew my daddy so I never could respect a man
I learned to cook up drugs and hold my ground while other youngsters ran
I had no teacher, it was like my pops had passed away
with one poolstick snaped his vertebra and he was gone away
My house was hell, I used to dwell down there on Clovis street
Cold hood in the B.U.C, 3 years in the penitentiary
Caught in the system, I’m a victim of my vary own past
When you live around here, you better watch your ass
I can’t go to sleep, and never to deep, cause I can hear shots
People go crazy and do anything trying to get what I got
Don’t need no clock, innocence drops and it never stops
This chemical drama, you know you wanna, it’s a wicked scheme
Problems unfold, don’t want to say it, but my moms a fiend
standing crying in the rain I can’t take the pain I think im giving in.
After all, we are all built fragile as men
but I’ve got to be a man, so my plan is to pursue my dreams
My family's got to eat so I'll keep sowing seem by seem
you Know what I mean, the same routine almost everyday
Law's pushing me, wish that there was a better way
I try to stop these fires, but they got me trapped inside the fence
What i represent is death, cause life's what I'm up against
It makes no sense to me, the troubles that run through my head
Waking up in the morning, knowing the grave might become my bed
I should of fled, but from my problems, I can't get away
No matter when or where I go, they're with me everyday
I'm shooting the dice and smoken the green to set my mind free
And trying to find a piece of my mind, where problems can't find me
but no matter what, I'm stuck, my mind is trapped inside this sin
So I release my anger through this gentle pad, and pin
my so called friends aren’t really my friends because they don't stay true
Besides the smoking and tweaking, now tell me, are they there for you?
Cash or credit, they got to get it, can't be sober no more
Some of us roll into the heaven's but some don’t roll no more
Out to get rich, but I'm no snitch, no need to drop a dime,
My future's blind, now tell, me what's on your mind?
Last edited by iFeaRNLoathiNg; 11-02-2007 at 17:53.
A personal favorite... funny because you always think of Shel Silverstein's
poetry for little kids. He actually has quite a few like this!
The Perfect High
There once was a boy named Gimme-Some-Roy...
He was nothin' like me or you,
'cause laying back and getting high
was all he cared to do.
As a kid, he sat in the cellar...sniffing airplane glue.
And then he smoked banana peels, when that was the thing to do.
He tried aspirin in Coca-Cola, he breathed helium on the sly,
and his life became an endless search to find the perfect high.
But grass just made him wanna lay back and eat chocolate-chip pizza all
and the great things he wrote when he was stoned looked like shit in the
Speed made him wanna rap all day, reds laid him too far back, Cocaine-Rose was sweet to his nose, but the price nearly broke his back.
He tried PCP, he tried THC, but they never quite did the trick. Poppers nearly blew his heart, mushrooms made him sick.
Acid made him see the light, but he couldn't remember it long. Hash was a little too weak, and smack was a lot too strong.
Quaaludes made him stumble, booze just made him cry,
Then he heard of a cat named Baba Fats who knew of the perfect high.
Now, Baba Fats was a hermit cat...lived high up in Nepal,
High on a craggy mountain top, up a sheer and icy wall.
"Well, hell!" says Roy, "I'm a healthy boy, and I'll crawl or climb or fly,
Till I find that guru who'll give me the clue as to what's the perfect high."
So out and off goes Gimme-Some-Roy, to the land that knows no time,
Up a trail no man could conquer, to a cliff no man could climb.
For fourteen years he climbed that cliff...back down again he'd slide
He'd sit and cry, then climb some more, pursuing the perfect high.
Grinding his teeth, coughing blood, aching and shaking and weak,
Starving and sore, bleeding and tore, he reaches the mountain peak.
And his eyes blink red like a snow-blind wolf, and he snarls the snarl of a
As there in repose, and wearing no clothes, sits the god-like Baba Fats.
"What's happenin', Fats?" says Roy with joy, "I've come to state my biz
I hear you're hip to the perfect trip... Please tell me what it is.
"For you can see," says Roy to he, "I'm about to die,
So for my last ride, tell me, how can I achieve the perfect high?"
"Well, dog my cats!" says Baba Fats. "Another burned out soul,
Who's lookin' for an alchemist to turn his trip to gold.
It isn't in a dealer's stash, or on a druggist's shelf
Son, if you would find the perfect high, find it in yourself."
"Why, you jive mother-fucker!" says Roy, "I climbed through rain and sleet,
I froze three fingers off my hands, and four toes off my feet!
I braved the lair of the polar bear, I've tasted the maggot's kiss.
Now, you tell me the high is in myself? What kinda shit is this?
My ears, before they froze off," says Roy, "had heard all kindsa crap;
But I didn't climb for fourteen years to hear your sophomore rap.
And I didn't climb up here to hear that the high is on the natch,
So you tell me where the real stuff is, or I'll kill your guru ass!"
"Okay...okay," says Baba Fats, "You're forcin' it outta me...
There is a land beyond the sun that's known as Zabolee.
A wretched land of stone and sand, where snakes and buzzards scream,
And in this devil's garden blooms the mystic Tzutzu tree.
Now, once every ten years it blooms one flower, as white as the Key West
And he who eats of the Tzutzu flower shall know the perfect high.
For the rush comes on like a tidal wave...hits like the blazin' sun.
And the high? It lasts forever, and the down don't never come.
But, Zabolee Land is ruled by a giant, who stands twelve cubits high,
And with eyes of red in his hundred heads, he awaits the passer-by.
And you must slay the red-eyed giant, and swim the river of slime,
Where the mucous beasts await to feast on those who journey by.
And if you slay the giant and beasts, and swim the slimy sea,
There's a blood-drinking witch who sharpens her teeth as she guards the
"Well, to hell with your witches and giants," says Roy, "To hell with the
beasts of the sea
Why, as long as the Tzutzu flower still blooms, hope still blooms for me."
And with tears of joy in his sun-blind eyes, he slips the guru a five,
And crawls back down the mountainside, pursuing the perfect high.
"Well, that is that," says Baba Fats, sitting back down on his stone,
Facing another thousand years of talking to God, alone.
"Yes, Lord, it's always the same...old men or bright-eyed youth...
It's always easier to sell 'em some shit than it is to tell them the truth."
You know that i am going to ride with my mutha fucken niggas, Most likey i'm ah die with my finger on the trigger, they tell me don't get high and just try to make a livin, i tell em i'm a hustler and i'd rather make a killen, my eyes get so wide as it expand in the skillit, i let my bitch bag it if she steal it im ah kill her,i bullet proof my MIND now i feel like im the realest, and fuck your opinion, The Ocean is the illest, and i aint gotta lie when i tell ya im the illest, my DOPE is the hawaii, so i can see why you need this, a self made key, im orginal in this business, yes im a slick mutha fucker and in the kitchen im ah chemist, and when i was five my faviorite movie was the gremlins, aint got shit to do with this i just though that i should mention, im looking for the devine and mabey a little intervention, and them birds wont fly without my permission, im probably in the sky flying with the fishes, or mabey in the ocean swiming with the pigions, see my world is differnt, like red and green and if you want trouble bitch i want the same thing, and You know that im going to ride with my mutha fucken niggas, Most likey i'm ah die with my finger on the trigger, dont worry about mine im going to grind untill i get it, and tell all of my niggas that the sky is the limit........the sky is the limit, geting head in the navi, you know my bitch love it, she tells me that she loves me, and i quickly switch the subject,i tell the girl, watch how u talk to me, and if u talken to other niggas you better not talk for free, vietamnise, 4 foot 9, like 90 pounds, yup, she looks twice as good as she mutha fucken sounds, enough about her i think this was about me, i said what i said,and i dont give a fuck if you agree, im talking about a good mind gone bad, from a crooked world, the right ryhme, or wrong dad, i write this shit mad, but not mad enough to shoot ya, but it still just eats me up like some barbcue from luthers, i was up early in the morning with the roosters, i was on the corner, chillin with the boosters, delivering the fresh cut, the shrooms and the tripster, i hope theres better weather coming in the future, i dont wanna see a needless hurricane, baby you can still kill the pain, if you would just let me explain baby you'd know what im sayin, mabey then i wont end up on the tracks of an oncoming train, thinking aout the past and stuck in the fast lane, i cant help, but stand in the hail, smoke weed, pop pills and go to jail, i hate when u niggas hate, your talk is cheap, startig to feel like the whole world is obsessed with me, my DOPE is art, my technique can part the sea, i guess the only thing a shark thinks about, is eat, by any means u niggas are only sardines, i got a brand new .40 cal for a fourth of an OZ, what do u expect im bound to be a legend from the B-U-C,you niggas are ashey,go use some lotion, i thought i told everybody im the mutha fucken Ocean, theres alot to worry about,yes my city is violent, they probly gonna make a brand new map without beecher on it, and when the sun go down im gonna be out for hours, and if i decide thats i want it, then your life is ours....trust, you dont want to fuck with this solider, you better use your head or ill talke it off your soulders ..run up in your moms and shoot everyone siting on the living room sofa...ha, that;s fucked up, and im a B and u ain't gotta know the alphabet to see....i know my whole city is depending on me and i forget alot of shit but i can not foget the streets...............and you dont wanna fuck with this soldier, use your head or ill take it off your soulders, mail it to your mom with a dozen roses........they tell me dont get high and just try to make a living, I TELL THEM IM A HUSTLER and i would rather make a killing......because the sky is the limit.
The following is my attempt at a sestina which uses a pattern that is hard to make sence with. note I deleted the last three lines.
I sit here atop this shrine
With a moment that is only mine
Fearing the call of the divine
Lest they show me a sign
...will I be fine
Should I decline
The sounds from above grow louder as I realize I must Decline
For their offer of peace flows through my body, this shrine
I realize that this life isn't bad at all it is just fine.
This moment of truth... how could I end the only thing that is mine?
So I continue to ignore the sign
That perhaps was inspired by the divine.
Moving past sad thoughts I try to regain my connection with the Divine
Only to realize off my peak it was time to decline
And as I head down the mountain I see a sign
“Respect all living things for within them is a shrine”
And I realize all this time that message was mine
And despite having my thoughts stolen by the mountain I'm fine
To know that something else is living in the same way I am is fine.
To know that life its self is not just chemical reactions is Divine
To know that the burden of consciousness is not just mine
To know that at any minute from G-d's grace I can decline
To know that forever more this mountain will be my Shrine
To know that to future travelers I can leave my own sign.
So I sit down and proceed to work on my sign
Around the mountain I run, cutting wood from an Oak tree fine
And now there hangs at the bottom of my Shrine
the words Know that every thing that is yours is divine
And that one day from this life you will decline
And what everyone everywhere has is mine
And as I look at what is mine
The product of my hands, this sign
I finish my Decline
And as my trip is over I feel fine.
And I wish to relive my experience with the Divine
So I promise to return to this Shrine.
swim figured this is the closest to a poetry appreciation thread as he could find....
heres one swim wrote just now... setting, day after ending a long 4 day drinking binge, entangled in a web of drugs and self deceit....
The Fog has lifted
Gazing aimlessly through one way glass,
The grass always looks greener.
Societal walls broken,
The fire awoken by the flame of change.
Illuminated by the gangrenous rot of those who had fallen victim to the plague of mediocrity.
wim wrote this on a notebook, figuared swim share with the Community.
Who's trippin, oh me
Good ol' dro-tro-man-god-damn-better-then-who-ever-wooooooooooooooooo-hooooooooooooooo
What was the weather?
I think its snowing in the back room
or mabey i just ate too meny shrooms
2c-i, LSD and 5-meo-mipt
The sky is falling right on top of me
it feels like im water, i cant belive what i see
pictures melt like choclete, things are not how they are supost to be
a friend calls tripping balls
he asks if i can see, how the train tracks took his mc'donalds money from me
I say calm down man, smoke some weed and relax
he said i would but this god damn chair is holding an axe
I think to myself "i'm glad im at home"
then i wonder was i even on the phone???
it was just 9pm now its 11 or mabey 3
the hands on the clock seem alive to me
its hard to breath, i suddently have a strong desire to leave
i turn on the 360, try to play a game
some where along the way i lost myself and was stuck trying to maintain
think about my drugs so i go in my pocket
wheres the pill bottle? i hope i didnt drop it
it's hard to see, i can't tell the differnce between the Downers and LSD
the walls they flex with every breath
i would laugh but im scared to death
where am i going, why am i here
where in the hell is my tripping peer
rocking in a corner trying to taste his ear
i need cigarettes you control the gas and ill stear
I swear i can feel the earth spinning around
wait, thank god i'm starting to come down
everythings coming back now, everythings so clear
i crack a smile and crack a beer
now im stright mabey a +1
reading what took a trip to write and im stunned
i wrote i was scared? i wonder for what
i wanna find out, so i pop 2 more
My paintbrush; a simple ink pen
My paint is a pallate of words
In a deep reverie i hereby describe
The pleasant, yet strangely absurd.
For seated upon
The banks of the Seine
While the light dwindles low overhead
An opium smoker
Hums a gentle refrain
And caresses the blanket which serves as his bed
And a family sits on soft cotton
As a mother puts worries to flight
And her son's hands are dirty from playing
As the red, rippling river reflects sunset light.
On this midsummer evening
The fireflies dance
Teasing your slow moving eyes through the reeds
As if in a trance, as if in a trance
As if in a trance, an ethereal sleep.
On the opposite bank there are candles aglow
The smoker draws smoke through his pipe
Papaver Somniferum, lead me to slumber
Infuse us with dreams through the night.
and another, unfinished poem about an opiate overdose:
"Submerge me, mu and kappa
Take me from this land, this land
Of disbelief and fear
I've no more business here
This rocky ode, this broken song
Is testament to that, sweet sigma
Take me in your arms
To Morpheus' cave, where i belong"
"And don't delay, I won't regret"
He hasn't time to calculate and calibrate
A dosage, yet
He'll soon be sailing
"To the land of golden sun,
Carry me there
For I am weary, and my aching bones
Are far too weak, with withered muscles,
I can't make it on my own."
Every journey he's taken
In sorrow or joy
To the world of the blissful walking dead
Has been cut short
To his dismay
And left him alone again.
And every time he's walked
Through her golden fields
In that world of contented apathy
He's had to return
Too soon, too soon
And been left in darkness again.
Now he finds himself in his true homeland
The land he had known as a child
Where he's counted her hilltops, many a time
And he's walked through her pastures mild
"With the breeze on my cheek and the sun on my back
And nary a care in the world.
As I'm carried downstream, on currents of warmth
And I'm whisked through her pastures mild."
There he goes, through those pastures mild.
Wake up, boy, you forget yourself
This paradise of honeydew
This oriental pleasure dome
Does not belong to you
Here's one i wrote about meth on meth. don't have a tittle for it. just my personal experience not really trying to preach or anything cause i know drugs affect people very differently :
Today i rid myself of the intoxicating poison, though its all i have
And the reason being is too fucking sad, its just so unnatural almost hard to say human
Makes one robotic and too easy it pleases all those who use it
But only after a while can u see how diabolically it gets into ones own feelings
It tweaks all the settings, making life all too easy
Cause on crystal you have only to do but one thing, and that's to get what you need
Because under its influence, some fake it but in reality, it becomes very hard to for others feel for
Your loved ones your friends your lovers and even your parents
Your natural affection becomes inaffective, you try to gain access cause its still familiar
But the feelings you know you should be feeling anymore just are not there
And the most you can do to compromise is to try and intellectualize the feelings you just cant seem to materialize
And its a fight not to deny it or excuse
Cause to not care turns out to feel really good
And it seems the only things you lose are shit feelings anyway
Like guilt, like shame, or a simple thing like giving a fuck about ones name
No its not hard waving goodbye to things like sadness and grief, but what about now things like empathy
Or the relief of getting things out that you know deep inside of you dwell
Well kiss that all goodbye, no longer will you be able to in other peoples shoes put yourself
And the things that need out get pushed so far down
The next time you see them they've doubled in size and weigh several pounds
Yeah so even though in truth you lose quite a lot
That's not even mentioning all the ones close to you and all they will have lost
If your an island then well hold on and have fun
If its what you want its your decision
But if you have anyone around you who you at all even care
Think about all they deserve and what you'll no longer be able to give
Deep down inside are you even still a person?
When you hurt them because you think there plotting against you, and you cross lines that there's not much worse than
And then top it all off with an inability for remorse
You try but you're too high and can only pretend
So how can you be someones friend if you can't even care about there feelings
You can't and they know it and will adventually be over it
Cause its not hard to leave one who deceives
And though you don't mean to, you start to see through people, and only really care about how much money they'll give to you
Cause for so long spun through life without having to care, your now coming down and everything unfelt, as is only fair, starts catching up to collect the bill
And it sucks its unfair cause no human was meant to bear all of there sins collected in the past year
All burying you at once so painful to feel, so many cuts
Yeah though it sucks it is to fair because for so long never had to care
And everyone knows in nature there's no such thing as free lunch
So enjoy every bit u really enjoy, to me its just shit, just a sick ploy
Its fleeting pleasure could hardly measure the devastation done to my brain, made it for so many a toy
It blinded me in ways a blind fold couldn't do better with each hit, deader and deader
Yet always believing the next hit will make me feel better
Its just a chemical but it makes the mind sick, and if you keep pushin it works itself deep within and steals your soul
And chances are you'll be the last one to know when it finally devours you whole
Left where you stood a strange shapeless figure
Its the monster and its wrapping your skin around itself like a cloak
The best news you have is most will not believe its you, cause its easy to tell the monster is wearing your skin as a suit
Yeah to most its clear this creatures not you but an imposter
Of course isn't it you who wears his skin like a horrible uncomfortable suit
There is no imposter its pretty simple
You are still you , and you are the monster
I do not know how long I dreamed, or what came before.
The dream was my world and I was content within it.
And as I dreamed, a man spoke to me and said:
Once I dreamed I was a butterfly.
I knew I was a butterfly and did not know I was a man.
Suddenly I awoke, and there I was, visibly a man.
I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly,
Or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming that I am a man.
I turned to ask the man what he meant by this,
But saw only my own reflection in a moonlit pool.
As I gazed upon the image, I was struck by how this man was me and yet not me.
While my hands were old and wizened, his were young and smooth.
While my skin was dark and rough, his was fair and soft.
Yet in his eyes I saw myself, or rather who I would be had I been born another.
Curious, I reached down to touch the shimmering surface.
It was then that I realized I was looking up through the pool
As he gazed down upon me from the world above.
Once again he spoke:
You are that which I would be but cannot.
You follow a path I dare not follow.
You live a life that I shall not lead, for I have chosen another.
You are one facet of my soul, among many.
Each with their own purpose, will, and spirit.
It is said that life is not a problem to be solved,
But a reality to be experienced.
This is truer for you than you know or can imagine.
With this, a cloud passed over the moon and the dream began to fade into darkness.
SWIM is baked and inspired! Heee what an excellent medium for transmuting SWIMS insatiable creative drive! SWIM once wrote a poem after dealing with a sudden stream of consciousness after being jailed for possession. SWIM has a talk with Mary. Sweet Mary.
...I seal my eyes shut and let my thoughts take over.
Mary jane who gave you the okay to come over?
I'm done with the maybes, "I told you we're over."
I'm through with the talking, what's there to go over?...
"I'm tired of the fights, Return to me Stoner,
I miss you my dear, you need me you loner!!"
Mary enough, I HAVE to stay sober,
Don't you recall last month when we both got pulled over?
"You've hurt me beyond what my tolerance exceeds,
you've cheated on me with Sobriety,
Tell me my dear... was she as sweet?
Can she dance with the stars? is she unique?
Does she point out the sunset, is she mystique?...
Besides i say 'Fuck the Police'
Red and Blue lights don't intimidate me.
Im repulsed at the way they corrupt our streets
next time they arrive, best pull out your 'heat'.
Oh SWIM my darling, why must you be,
so closed minded and fearful to reality
Open your eyes, and then you will see.
without me your blinded to what lies beneath."
Mary sweet Mary, don't manipulate me
Your already the reaper in all of my dreams.
I'm plagued by the thoughts of your illustrious leaves,
your perspectives are brilliant, they mesmerize me:
Your lack of approval for conformity,
and your sensualist views on society.
Without you I'm weak on trembling knees,
My spasmodic mind is expired... "stimulate me."
heheeeeee the creative juices are flowing directly through SWIM'S medulla oblingota, OR is it SWIM's temporal lobe?! SWIM has little knowledge of neuro processes.
(BTW, this was posted on another poetry forum, and a fellow member respectfully told SWIM to post it here) Thanks.
Not specifically a drug related piece of work, but it speaks to me with or without chemical intervention. Meaningful on so many levels.
Ode to a Nightingale John Keats
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,--
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain--
To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music-Do I wake or sleep?
If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.
For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.
And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.
And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.
For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--should be clear:
the darkness around us is deep.
They're at that stage where so much desire streams between them,
so much frank need and want,
so much absorption in the other and the self and the self-admiring
entity and unity they make-
her mouth so full, breast so lifted, head thrown back so far in her
laughter at his laughter,
he so solid, planted, oaky, firm, so resonantly factual in the headiness
of being craved so,
she almost wreathed upon him as they intertwine again, touch again,
cheek, lip, shoulder, brow,
every glance moving toward the sexual, every glance away soaring
back in flame into the sexual-
that just to watch them is to feel again that hitching in the groin, that
filling of the heart,
the old, sore heart, the battered, foundered, faithful heart, snorting
again, stamping in it's stall.
Long ago in a completely different dimension of time and space, a 16 year old embarks on a journey that could deprive him of his very sanity. He faces the challenge with a very thin thread of hope, it is the words of a great leader from the past. The words were, "the only thing to fear, is fear itself". This poem is the story of his struggle.
MY WINDOW IS A DOOR
I sit here and gaze through the windowpane
Trying to see what insights that I might gain
Will I achieve this enlightenment I seek
Or become yet another burned out freak
To expand the mind it takes some risk
Every time you take that little disk
The future and the past appear to be one and the same.
Perhaps I am simply going insane
I can see the Devil in my bathroom mirror
He grows larger as my face goes nearer
I would turn out the lights, but they are already out
That this is weird, there can be no doubt
He said "no more than a half", but I took two
My floor is bubbling, now what do I do
There is a tiki speaking to me through the wood grain of my closet door
I am glad I thought twice about doing even more
I watch the "trivia" as they crawl accross my walls
To deal with this takes some kind of cerebral balls
Maybe I should pass through the door and onto the grass
To seek the truth I know will not last
Will I transend this or simply flip out
By the mornin's light, I will probably find out
Whoever said that cleanliness is next to godliness, must have been an acid head.
Ed note. The above is a complete work of fiction. It was written to become a song, just could not come up with a chorus.
I'm an organic metronome, powered by batteries;
A sub-atomic chemical, flavoured by flattery.
I was dipped in oil, but i taste like sauce;
Physics can't stop me, an unblockable force.
The music magnetic and my pulse synthetic;
Raise the sugar levels till the bass is diabetic.
I beat to the thunder and vibrate to the waves;
I rock to the rolling, like the rhythm to the slaves.
Can you smell the synergy with the scent of a flower?
Did you soar with the bees, sniffing pollen like powder?
Would you walk along the waves if you fell out the boat?
Or could you swim like a fish if it all failed to float?
I'm a slave to the power
I work for the energies
Slowing down by the hour
So i'm powered by batteries