Tag Archives: drugs

Tools of the trade

Like the fat fuck doctor handing over vicodin
to the boy in pain who doesn’t yet know
he should say ‘go kill yourself’
instead of ‘okay’

Like dufflebags full of crystal methamphetamine
that used to be made in America
until it got outsourced
just like everything else

Like vacuum-packed on diplomatic flights
to South Korea—China—the Philippines
by the psychopathic soldiers & agents
without an ounce of morale left

Like making billions pushing synthetic opiates
while thousands of misled victims are dying
turning to heroin laced with fent
chasing their own tails until the end

Like turning a blind eye to the kilograms
of legal fentanyl analogs
exported from China—
North Korea can only dream of such success—

Like Duterte’s son getting caught
red handed moving millions in shabu
Triad tats on his back
—no one does a thing

Like shooting up after eating McDonalds
driving your Chevy Geo out of the parking lot
onto the road chucking your used needle
into the gutter from an open window

Like not even knowing there’s a lethal threshold
that you are going to want to pass
to get the same degree of feeling
you had the first time—it’s already gone—

Like taking your usual maintenance dose
that you thought was from the same source
nodding off on the toilet
never waking up again

Like writing a book about the Clinton’s
cocaine Arkanicide rise to political power
getting shot in the head
—suicided on the top of a hillside

Like the opium wars all over again
forever without an end in sight
whole entire neighborhoods set up
to be harvested for prisoners

Like feeding them risperidone for profit
in solitary confinement
guilty of nothing
but a lifestyle

Like how my generation statistically
is the drunkest one ever to walk
the face of the earth
—I wonder why that is

Like how before it was legal
for the CIA to brainwash the public before 2011
there were shows like Friends
all the chicks wanted to watch

Like no matter how much effort
you put into unlearning & training
your mind—there it is again every time
you talk to almost anyone

Like not giving a fuck
if you don’t like my poem
—go shove your head back into the sand
pretend everything is perfectly fine—

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Antimatter

Did I ever tell you about the time
I ate two hits of acid
& washed it down with a Heineken
while I was in Big Sur
camping by a river with a friend
I thought it would be nice to go
for an afternoon hike while it kicked in
except I never found the trail
there was this droning sound looming
I knew I had to get out of there before
it was too late
something weird was happening
all of a sudden I felt like a sunfish
in the dust
I needed to go to the beach
at first I didn’t understand it
the sheer magnitude of the magnetism
the metal viscosity of my blood flowing
in these two hemispheres
ringing a screaming buzzing making
the connections between all this with
my hands curling up into my chest—
they wouldn’t budge—
I’ve gone retarded from drinking & drugs!
I’ll never be the same!
The acid was bad!

So I tried
& I kept trying
floundering in the Lexus
my hands wouldn’t move
pinned down curlfisted
I could talk & laugh
but there was a black holes force
yanking them into me all the while
I could sense the magnetic fields coming
off of me & my friend laughing hysterically
making fun of me
was I becoming a dolphin—
was this where I transform & go back
into the ocean like an animorph
right here on Pfieffer beach in front of everyone
past the ranger’s booth who took the 5
Did he have any idea what was happening
how was I ever going to get out
open the door & walk to the beach
I had no idea; I was paralyzed—
time was slowly passing though
whatever happened started to die down
right when we got there only so much
that it allowed me to unpry my retarded arms
from my chest but I could still feel this
overwhelming gravity shooting off of me
pulling into me like I’d never felt before
never felt again—
a lesson learned by poison’s collision
with a sacrament—I walked my magnetic ass
down to that beach with a smile so wide
a beluga whale coulda swam thru it
those translucent dark indigo swirls
in the sand from the volcano spun
all around my feet… the crystalline
glistening… the gravity of every step
moving in a cycling system of energy
the fat man in the wetsuits stomach
started beaming transmissions so I lay
with my jeans my black shirt feeling it
between my toes & fingers for hours
I can still hear the waves lapping
from ten years ago
like an aliens tongue at the spiral caves
inside of me I remember I never wanted
to forget it’s sweet eerie steel hissing








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Dicks & drugs

You can have
a hard dick
or a slurred tongue
but you can’t have both

Or hey what do I know
maybe you can
I knew a dealer
in New York
who had little blue pills

There’s actually something
I’ve never done
his neighbor told me
it fucked with his head
they both looked at each other
nodded & agreed

He had a couple pit bulls
they were lounging beside him
with their tongues out
as he smiled reminiscing
the fond moment
he was fucking this chick
& put her head thru a wall
verbatim

I could write tragedies
about some that I’ve met
back before there was Weedmaps
when gangster wannabe’s
stood between me
& some moldy catpiss that
hardly took the edge off

But I won’t—

A cock is not just
for playful pummeling & painting
piss murals on everything
a cock is like a barometer
a cock gives you a choice

                 Someday I predict
                 I won’t care as much
                 if I make it another thirty years
                 come smoke me out with sap
                 on the side of the trail
                 on a sunny day
I’ll have had so many
thousands of deafening orgasms
by then—tens of thousands—
it will all seem like one
about to happen

                   







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Gold country

Roll a joint
break it down
between these itchy fingers
feels so sticky
so real
set it down
forget about it
there’s this scratching post
at the top of my head
the smell
of undoing the knots escapes
the static screams
behind the songs
the tubes they used
glowing darkly upside down
almost hidden, untouched
clean of oil
the tremolo, the springs,
the thin twang of a fender
warbles atomic geometry
like markers
upstroked
left to hang
to sustain
twenty minutes in the pot
set a timer to forget
let it cool until it’s tepid
this exact same thing
every ten days
triple digits out there
the wall is breathing 
I got EMA on the box
she makes me feel
I’m not sweating anymore
I was burning in the sun
hollowing them out this morn’
their insides like to breathe
their outsides need the light
& who wants larfy schwag
snow lotus brings the frost
out of skyhigh spears
super silver haze
breathes in the breeze
coming down
off the Sierra’s
down
this iron dusted gulch I dwell
they dance
this time of year
the cats are passed out
on the deck
a shadow of a vulture
scans the dusty
ground pops
with crickets
a mockingbird posts up
on a dead ponderosa
after a flash of his bomber wings
I wipe the webs off
on these cutoff shorts
the bees savor every drop
of water they can find
a woodpecker knocks
it’s beak for some bugs
the only other sounds
are far off
muted by currents
the forest at the top
of the hill
the fox den
overlooking the house
the bend
in the trunk of the pine tree
I love watching
summer burn
our souls away
until there’s nothing left
but rain
but hope
but love
to find it’s way
thru the mud & snow
& acid trips
again





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Jermz

I’m not entirely sure what compelled us

to joust with our bodies that one day

we made fried rice with psilocybe cubensis

except we didn’t really cook them

I was gagging it down with a fork

I found them in a ranchers cow field

behind the Publix despite a cop parked right at

the exit & seeing him riding a tractor that time

it was weird driving around your older brothers

upscale neighborhood near downtown St. Pete

listening to Omar in the spaceship

flipping a bitch at the sight

of a construction zone—fuck that

skeleton warriors wearing metal armor

with swords began to charge at me

from the shadows of a concrete wall

getting kicked out of a parking garage

smoking a joint no longer able to see them

typical banyan tree weather—hot

humid & sweating, so many little fruit flies

ended their lives with their wings stuck

to my face but not yours—I figured

it was because you’re Cuban

by the long stretch of thick grass

in the bayside park with everyone else

We pumped our mushroom legs thru it

on our bikes full speed toward each other

unyielding playing chicken faster—

faster until we were right about to collide

two dudes over six feet tall careening

with the craziest grins you’d ever seen

our bikes crashed, tangled, your front tire

taco’d & we met midair somewhere around our chests

with an audible exhalation of air

like we knocked the wind out of each other

& went flying toward the ground laughing—

laughing as hard as we possibly could

hysterical & insane dying there in the grass

by death beach with a water bottle

& clouds in the sky rotating color

swirling what—your girlfriend from like

thirty miles away appeared out of nowhere

said she saw us sitting there driving by

we didn’t even know what to do at that point

you left to go hide inside of clothesracks

at a mall with her—I got in my car & drove it

like a squishy pancake over the sunshine skyway

I don’t even know how I did it

cars were shrinking, expanding, & shifting

rapidly between the wiggling lanes all around me

I stayed between them somehow no matter what

I listened to dream sequence & sensory decay II

I told myself if I ever make it

to Anna Maria island I don’t know what I’ll do

it took me an hour but I made it just in time

to walk thru the white sand to the concrete

dock all the way to the end with no one

around just to watch the pastel sky dance

for me like kites being flown from way out

on the ocean with stars turning on like streetlights

the soft sloshing of the sea

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Close your eyes

                                      You’re a sweet

                                           fractal fucking god

                       you got all your tentacles 

                  I’m in the back seat of the ride

                  laying down with my feet up

                         giggling like an idiot

                                          the power’s out

                              in the whole entire town

                         we’re cruising thru the dark

                                             back to Bradenton

                                 though it isn’t to me

                                    I can’t hear your stupid

                                            sober cartoon voices

                                        except for little bits like

                              gorilla suit this & Wayne that

                              I’m missing the thin warmth

                              of the girl who picked me

                            out of the crowd & stayed

                             in my arms until it was over

                 I wondered if it was the acid

                          we had to go our separate ways

                         tethered by a code of numbers

                                a holloweyed goodbye I can’t

                                     seem to forget—the fractal

                  fucking octopus god just shimmers

       like scales coiling underneath the surface

                        completely unknown to anyone

                              but I see you motherfucker






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Back home

Now they’re finally saying
the war in Afghanistan
which they never planned
on ever winning
is too expensive
for us

Babies grew up
into hand me down drivers
in the time they’ve spent
racketing away at the trap

It’s no wonder heroin
is cheaper than it’s ever been
sometimes I wonder
why I’m not doing any
easier to get than a ‘script
a gateway sanctioned
by a board meeting

Yeah I mean I know the answer
I know the other answer too
I chainsmoke flowers
while I write

Let me elucidate
the fallacy
of opalescent economics
the psychopathic travesty
of profits over people

They say it’s cheaper just to use
the private contractors
who are over there right now
guarding the poppy fields
vantage pointing horizons
that covertly expanded
while our soldiers
tried to instill a pseudodemocracy
no one gives a fuck about
& died a freakish death
which they tried to cover up
a long time ago
back home

Back home where they are more likely
to kill themselves
than die by anything else

Back home the alien planet
the contractors relinquished
to kill on command until retirement

Back home in duffel bags unchecked
after nine months a new batch
the temptation must be profound

Back home flooded with fentanyl
from China & other even stronger
opiates overdosing just by the touch

Back home where states are suing
big pharma for knowingly setting
everyone up to turn cold & blue
 

Back home with CIA psyop brainwashing
on every channel every messageboard
every social media network to control us
how we think & how we act

Back home phishing for clicks with bot
accounts & links to malware for anyone
especially some more than others

Back home not too far from where the contractors
want to wrap everything up on their terms
whatever the fuck that mean$

Back home sniping innocent refugees
after Katrina just like they did
to the unarmed folks of Nusoor Square

Back home where their best idea
is to go big or go home with military & surveillance spending
they know what’s coming

Back home collapsing desperate
until the very last second it’s
already too late 

Back home where solutions will become
inevitable talking points against
an opposing party to strengthen theirs

Back home where they’d probably try
to kill us all but they’re vampires
that feed off us just ask Virginia

Back home hyped up & bitchslapped
by fear into blind compliance
scapegoating distractions deflect

Back home where you should go
it’s cheaper to do what exactly
if we already know all of this 

Back home not buying it but still watching you
just to see the type of bullshit & candycorn
you’re feeding less by the day
 

Back home cooking dinner in bacon grease
adding cannabis to everything
a dark orange hue that blankets the woods

Back home brewing like a kettle
for a cup of coffee watching it all
unfold from within the confines of a gulch

Back home ensnared but cut loose filtering
the bluelight getting a good nights sleep
I always keep a sharpened blade on me

Back home dusty & wildfire faced
black shirt, black lighter
black everything





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