original thread: http://www.pigpenpoetry.com/showthread.php?tid=14955

edit 2
It occurred to me recently:
that I needed an outlet for creativity
and to make the work cohesive.
Should I channel new age nonsense
like a clever business man
to an upper-middle class audience?
Or do I learn yoga,
or drink wine,
dance a little?
Can't paint, or play my own music...
predestined to code runes onto stone,
talk to High Sierra trees,
and fire women...
debating whether to throw hand spun nets
into the ocean to see what comes back;
perhaps some gilled abomination
trailing black ink
from the depths of flushed out realms:
canyons outstretched upon a silver spike,
disjointed beak twitching in the sunburst sand.
Arms feeling out into the world, grasping nothing.
In short, I was afraid.

How do I begin?
How do I resume?

One white circular tab of acid,
one strong mushroom
weighing approximately 1.8 grams,
a swig of rye for some warmth
prepares me to feel my way
over to see Lettuce perform
their infamous late night set.

Morphing through the backstage passage,
engaging in metallic smells
popular with the kids these days;
tastes like concentrated copper
as I lick my arm of the MDMA dose...
cephalic skin expanding
as I prop motionless against an amplifier,
dreaming with eyes open.

Healing energy fueled by melting sounds
is what I needed on this Independence Day Holiday.


edit
It occurred to me recently:
have an outlet for creativity
and make it cohesive.
Should I listen to a clever businessman
channeling new age nonsense
to an upper-middle class audience?
Or do I learn yoga,
or drink wine,
dance a little?
Can't paint, or play my own music...
I think I will see it live and up close:
High Sierra trees,
and fire women...
deliberating to throw images like nets
to see what comes back;
a fish spun in the
flushed out realms of canyons
outstretched upon a silver spike.

One white circular tab of acid,
one strong mushroom
weighing approximately 1.8 grams,
a swig of rye for some warmth
prepares me to walk over
to see Lettuce perform
their infamous late night set.

Rotating through the backstage passage,
engaging in metallic smells
popular with the kids these days;
tastes like concentrated copper
as I lick my finger of the MDMA dose...
Reformative energy fueled by melting sounds
is what I needed on this Independence Day holiday.

original
It occurred to me recently:
have an outlet for creativity
and make it cohesive.
Should I listen to a clever businessman
channeling new age nonsense
to an upper-middle class audience?
Or do I learn yoga,
or drink wine,
dance a little?
Can't paint, or play my own music...
I think I will see it live and up close:
high sierra trees,
and fire women...
aim a infinite time later,
to throw images like nets
to see what comes back;
a fish spun in the
flushed out realms of canyons
outstretched upon a silver spike,
dotted by lime green mechanized sounds.

It was one white circular tab of acid,
one strong mushroom
weighing approximately 1.8 grams,
a swig of rye for some warmth
prepares me to walk over
to see Lettuce perform
their infamous late night set.

Stumbling through the backstage passage,
tasting metallic white powder
popular with the kids these days.
Tastes like concentrated copper
licking my finger of the Empathy.
Healing energy fueled by melting sounds
is what I needed on this Independence Day holiday.

(07-18-2014, 04:33 PM)maximumjake Wrote:  Yes...muchos bueno!
Nits in text.
tectak

It occurred to me recently:
have an outlet for creativity
and make it cohesive.
Should I listen to a clever businessman
channeling new age nonsense
to an upper-middle class audience?
Or do I learn yoga,
or drink wine,
dance a little?
Can't paint, or play my own music...
I think I will see it live and up close:
high sierra trees, Should High Sierra be capitalised
and fire women...
aim a infinite time later, an
to throw images like nets
to see what comes back;
a fish spun in the
flushed out realms of canyons
outstretched upon a silver spike,
dotted by lime green mechanized sounds. You are off again. Flashback?

It was one white circular tab of acid,
one strong mushroom
weighing approximately 1.8 grams, Not 1.9 gms then. Cute to detail this..I think it works. Especially contrasted with "swig"
a swig of rye for some warmth
prepares me to walk over If this is this then you don't need to open this stanza with "It was...".In fact, it is wrong syntax to so do. Read it out loud. See. I am right. Yes?
to see Lettuce perform
their infamous late night set.

Stumbling through the backstage passage,
tasting metallic white powder
popular with the kids these days. Not a sentence. Correct it.
Tastes like concentrated copper
licking my finger of the Empathy. Hmmm. Suspect reasoning here...that is to say, I don't get it.
Healing energy fueled by melting sounds
is what I needed on this Independence Day holiday.

....but what a good idea. Well done for embracing it.
Good egg,
Very Best,
tectak

(07-18-2014, 10:57 PM)tectak Wrote:  

(07-18-2014, 04:33 PM)maximumjake Wrote:  Yes...muchos bueno!
Nits in text.
tectak

It occurred to me recently:
have an outlet for creativity
and make it cohesive.
Should I listen to a clever businessman
channeling new age nonsense
to an upper-middle class audience?
Or do I learn yoga,
or drink wine,
dance a little?
Can't paint, or play my own music...
I think I will see it live and up close:
high sierra trees, Should High Sierra be capitalised
and fire women...
aim a infinite time later, an
to throw images like nets
to see what comes back;
a fish spun in the
flushed out realms of canyons
outstretched upon a silver spike,
dotted by lime green mechanized sounds. You are off again. Flashback?

It was one white circular tab of acid,
one strong mushroom
weighing approximately 1.8 grams, Not 1.9 gms then. Cute to detail this..I think it works. Especially contrasted with "swig"
a swig of rye for some warmth
prepares me to walk over If this is this then you don't need to open this stanza with "It was...".In fact, it is wrong syntax to so do. Read it out loud. See. I am right. Yes?
to see Lettuce perform
their infamous late night set.

Stumbling through the backstage passage,
tasting metallic white powder
popular with the kids these days. Not a sentence. Correct it.
Tastes like concentrated copper
licking my finger of the Empathy. Hmmm. Suspect reasoning here...that is to say, I don't get it.
Healing energy fueled by melting sounds
is what I needed on this Independence Day holiday.

....but what a good idea. Well done for embracing it.
Good egg,
Very Best,
tectak

Thanks, tectak, and everyone who commented and gave input on the moved thread I linked to at the top of this page. Been fun seeing this made lucid.

edit
It occurred to me recently:
have an outlet for creativity (that I needed an outlet for my creativity)
and make it cohesive. (Make what cohesive? "outlet". or creativity)
Should I listen to a clever businessman
channeling new age nonsense
to an upper-middle class audience? (As the speaker speaks of this disdainfully, answer is obviously no.)
Or do I learn yoga,
or drink wine,
dance a little? (Is the speaker
Can't paint, or play my own music...
I think I will see it live and up close:
High Sierra trees,
and fire women...
deliberating to throw images like nets ( you really need "deliberating, maybe debating whether. Also." to throw image nets, or nets made of images )
to see what comes back;
a fish spun in the
flushed out realms of canyons
outstretched upon a silver spike.

One white circular tab of acid,
one strong mushroom
weighing approximately 1.8 grams,
a swig of rye for some warmth
prepares me to walk over
to see Lettuce perform
their infamous late night set.

Rotating through the backstage passage,
engaging in metallic smells
popular with the kids these days;
tastes like concentrated copper
as I lick my finger of the MDMA dose... (Is dose needed)
Healing energy fueled by melting sounds
is what I needed on this Independence Day holiday.

There are too many points: cohesively channeling at the start, and then relating a drug trip. I did like your explanation/images of fire works. Those are some good lines.

Dale

(07-19-2014, 04:10 PM)Erthona Wrote:  edit
It occurred to me recently:
have an outlet for creativity (that I needed an outlet for my creativity)
and make it cohesive. (Make what cohesive? "outlet". or creativity)
Should I listen to a clever businessman
channeling new age nonsense
to an upper-middle class audience? (As the speaker speaks of this disdainfully, answer is obviously no.)
Or do I learn yoga,
or drink wine,
dance a little? (Is the speaker
Can't paint, or play my own music...
I think I will see it live and up close:
High Sierra trees,
and fire women...
deliberating to throw images like nets ( you really need "deliberating, maybe debating whether. Also." to throw image nets, or nets made of images ) image nets
to see what comes back;
a fish spun in the
flushed out realms of canyons
outstretched upon a silver spike.

One white circular tab of acid,
one strong mushroom
weighing approximately 1.8 grams,
a swig of rye for some warmth
prepares me to walk over
to see Lettuce perform
their infamous late night set.

Rotating through the backstage passage,
engaging in metallic smells
popular with the kids these days;
tastes like concentrated copper
as I lick my finger of the MDMA dose... (Is dose needed)
Healing energy fueled by melting sounds
is what I needed on this Independence Day holiday.

There are too many points: cohesively channeling at the start, and then relating a drug trip. I did like your explanation/images of fire works. Those are some good lines.

I guess to me it comes together nicely. What I want to do now is make it clear for others. To give some perspective, I'm not a frequent tripper, but I am a music freak and festival goer. I have one rule when it comes to psychedelic drugs: if the musical lineup and people vibes are so incredible that I feel I am tripping when sober, only then will I accept an offer of acid, and only from a team member. Never accept acid from strangers, kids. Family only, and make sure one of them is a research pharmacologist at a prestigious university.

This was my first time taking clean acid...no jitters. You will sleep with your eyes open, dreaming, incapable of intelligent speech (this was the mushrooms too...since they make each other more potent in a strange way). Acid is mechanical, like a ferrari, controllable with practice. Mushrooms, more metaphysical and containing the souls of the spore within each one.

I was spun.

My life was changed; I started to repair a whole lot of psychological damage, leading to revelations about my direction in life, what was causing my mental pain, and finally giving me the push to break out of my shell of introspection and identity crisis and connect with other human beings again...the last time I was able to do that in my brain, was 10 years ago.

Essentially, I feel 19 again in certain ways, but I still retain the parts of me that mattered most: for a long time I got away from writing...got it in my head I could bear through mathematics to become a software engineer, and create video games. This was the single worst decision of my life, and to make matters more complicated, I was enabled down this path. Failure after failure, I receded into myself, accepting the loneliness and futility of my existence. Suffering from depression at this point, rotting my brain with 12 hour video game sessions, under some delusion that I could keep this up forever.

I'm eternally thankful my enabler made some stupid political business moves and lost all their money, forcing myself, and my siblings out into the world with nothing but our brain and a bit of severance money, or I'd still be trapped there in the south Florida swamp, in my room, playing video games.

Also, this trip, it was among family, one of whom is a doctor of psychology. After the trip they answered all my questions and explained what area of me it was coming from. I have some basic understanding of clinical psychology, and areas of the brain, and have done a bit of work there myself. This half hour conversation led to the true assimilation of all the trips data: the universe told me what was best for myself, and how to begin acting on it by writing. I shouldn't of stopped writing 10 years ago. It put a plug on a lot of things for me.

Dale

(07-19-2014, 06:57 PM)maximumjake Wrote:  

(07-19-2014, 04:10 PM)Erthona Wrote:  edit
It occurred to me recently:
have an outlet for creativity (that I needed an outlet for my creativity)
and make it cohesive. (Make what cohesive? "outlet". or creativity)
Should I listen to a clever businessman
channeling new age nonsense
to an upper-middle class audience? (As the speaker speaks of this disdainfully, answer is obviously no.)
Or do I learn yoga,
or drink wine,
dance a little? (Is the speaker
Can't paint, or play my own music...
I think I will see it live and up close:
High Sierra trees,
and fire women...
deliberating to throw images like nets ( you really need "deliberating, maybe debating whether. Also." to throw image nets, or nets made of images ) image nets
to see what comes back;
a fish spun in the
flushed out realms of canyons
outstretched upon a silver spike.

One white circular tab of acid,
one strong mushroom
weighing approximately 1.8 grams,
a swig of rye for some warmth
prepares me to walk over
to see Lettuce perform
their infamous late night set.

Rotating through the backstage passage,
engaging in metallic smells
popular with the kids these days;
tastes like concentrated copper
as I lick my finger of the MDMA dose... (Is dose needed)
Healing energy fueled by melting sounds
is what I needed on this Independence Day holiday.

There are too many points: cohesively channeling at the start, and then relating a drug trip. I did like your explanation/images of fire works. Those are some good lines.

I guess to me it comes together nicely. What I want to do now is make it clear for others. To give some perspective, I'm not a frequent tripper, but I am a music freak and festival goer. I have one rule when it comes to psychedelic drugs: if the musical lineup and people vibes are so incredible that I feel I am tripping when sober, only then will I accept an offer of acid, and only from a team member. Never accept acid from strangers, kids. Family only, and make sure one of them is a research pharmacologist at a prestigious university.

This was my first time taking clean acid...no jitters. You will sleep with your eyes open, dreaming, incapable of intelligent speech (this was the mushrooms too...since they make each other more potent in a strange way). Acid is mechanical, like a ferrari, controllable with practice. Mushrooms, more metaphysical and containing the souls of the spore within each one.

I was spun.

My life was changed; I started to repair a whole lot of psychological damage, leading to revelations about my direction in life, what was causing my mental pain, and finally giving me the push to break out of my shell of introspection and identity crisis and connect with other human beings again...the last time I was able to do that in my brain, was 10 years ago.

Essentially, I feel 19 again in certain ways, but I still retain the parts of me that mattered most: for a long time I got away from writing...got it in my head I could bear through mathematics to become a software engineer, and create video games. This was the single worst decision of my life, and to make matters more complicated, I was enabled down this path. Failure after failure, I receded into myself, accepting the loneliness and futility of my existence. Suffering from depression at this point, rotting my brain with 12 hour video game sessions, under some delusion that I could keep this up forever.

I'm eternally thankful my enabler made some stupid political business moves and lost all their money, forcing myself, and my siblings out into the world with nothing but our brain and a bit of severance money, or I'd still be trapped there in the south Florida swamp, in my room, playing video games.

Also, this trip, it was among family, one of whom is a doctor of psychology. After the trip they answered all my questions and explained what area of me it was coming from. I have some basic understanding of clinical psychology, and areas of the brain, and have done a bit of work there myself. This half hour conversation led to the true assimilation of all the trips data: the universe told me what was best for myself, and how to begin acting on it by writing. I shouldn't of stopped writing 10 years ago. It put a plug on a lot of things for me.

Dale

...this is the FUN forum?????
tectak

You started it, I was just following suit I thought it was in a different forum, plus I was half knocked out on a couple of Lemon 714 and a pint of single malt.

Regard-less

Dale

Not up for a bit of light reading? In retrospect, probably should have kept this in poetry discussion.

I'm really happy with this second edit...thinking the poem is finished, unless someone else has ideas I could put into play.

Makes me laugh how I only meant to type up a quick response to Dale's critique, and it turned into a trip report...but I guess that's what this poem wanted to be in the first place.

Jacob