Advanced garbage on
the magic of communication.
Pushing logs into lemons.
Driving through inevitability of sand.
The effort of the tongue to alleviate suffering
vibrating folds of skin, exhalting history.
Crossing minds, this space
plumbing mind, plumbing wells.
And this -- solid reverie of its creation
Was what more than every replayed moment
in dark stairwell fascination
every day and night and in the hours.
Slow and again, off and on
Blunt echo impression walking, always.
The fast reaction moments, sharp and alive
the small seconds dissected in aerial perfection
counting in time, syllables and words.
Pointing in every direction and rendering.
Clay dregs
pool water.
I keep my razor blades cool.
I slide soft margarine plastic bag resumption
A spurting salmon, engaged
open to drive the belly of the beast
orange splendor, drinking water.
Building bricks for treason
and acrid alimony
excuseway lemming a lesson.
Biding time
in the endless temple
of my creation.
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
How do you get the above?
Some drama, a midnight joint, listening to the butthole surfers.
I had this urge to smoke a joint tonight because of some drama going on.
I don't even know why but I did it on a weekday night which I have not done for many years.
I felt maybe it was bad at first, but no it was absolutely appropriate.
I highly recommend very occasional use of marijuana. Enough to unclog your brain every few months or years.
So anyway I've totally changed my perspective on this thing that had been left me perplexed and down.
This last year or so has been this amazing learning experience.
Maybe my life in general was a learning experience when all kinds of shit happened, but seeing it as a learning experience makes a big difference in being better able to handle it.
So what is it exactly I'm talking about?
Just the beginnings of life after the previous one has been razed to rubble, and new construction.
The joy is to be given the opportunity not to repeat the past as you were trapped in it, but to figure it out as a challenge.
i think i understand what you mean about seeing stuff differently. you get to see things from various perspectives under various states of psychosis.
And there I was about to post a journal about how all the poets had left this site...
'I keep my razor blades cool' is a properly chilling line...
I can't use marijuana, and it is one of my (many) big regrets, (I said this once before on this site) 'cos it seems like a mellow, undemonstrative, gently expansive drug. My psyche just ain't built for. I can't handle that kind of opening up into canyons and chasms and corridors of lost thought.