Tag Archives: Psychedelic

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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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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Boltzmann’s wet dream

                                           In approximately ten
                                         to the power of ten
              to the power of fifty years from now
                   it’s been hypothesized
                  the entropy in what we call
                the universe will fluctuate
                                           just enough
                            for the disembodied
                brains to appear
                                                 in the vacuum
               like space ghosts
                                   roving the outskirts
of the very end of everything


                   who are these observers
                   will they even know themselves
                                   thinking, remembering
          fluctuating from above


  the iron stars collapsing
from quantum tunneling
   becoming neutron stars melting
                      into shattered black holes
                              subatomic particles
   all matter gone


you’re not supposed to make sense
                       you’re disallowed
           you’re a problem
          you’re the last sparks of phantom life
                    before it bangs like bubbles again


   you take the number of all the ways
    every subatomic particle
      can be combined
          you multiply it by ten
          to the power of ten
          to the power of ten
          to the power of fifty six
a rounding error


                              the time it will take
                              for one of the bangs
                    to start to look like this 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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Us

The last thing he saw was a rolling
paper made out of rice stuck in
a spiderweb beneath the

what was he even looking at exactly

would have been peeled back in layers
undetected until fully rooted down below
this connection establishes itself
during which it’s transferred

We’ve been lucky that most not only
don’t notice but they don’t even try to exploit
our own vulnerabilities in the wormway
under the cover of darkness the necessity
of sleep it’s not perfect but it’s working

This one wakes up without the alarm going off
so we never know if he’s awake or what
& there’s been complications
more incidents of portal breaching
with clear signs of recall signatured
we think some of them have seen us

I bet it’s warm like a bonfire
    a proximity that ripples out
  shines brighter on a map or mind
  a sea of flesh & fluids seamlessly
         intertwined tesselating from above
        there’s something about us
                     that you need
               like you’ve been here 
                or like you’re never
                       coming back




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Skyline

   

                        Come on

                                                               let’s go

            we’re going

                                           to Skyline

      way up windy

                                                  Highway 9

             the windows down

                            thru the redwoods

                  to the ridge

                               just to see all

          the sodium lamps blink

                                             from miles away

    on one side of the street

                                                 maybe the ocean

   at the end of the forest


                                                    or a sea of clouds

  on the other side

                                                where I got a djembe

 to bounce off a distant mountain

                                   & cried like quiet fireworks

 on the fourth of July

                              I’d eat some rootbark

    watch the lunar eclipse 

                            on a blanket

                smoke bowls

                         adjust aperture settings

                         until sunrise 

                they never used

                                       to bother us

           we got lost back there

                              ran jeanslapping & ticklegged

         on one occasion too

                                    all the way down the hillside

  like flatlander baffoons

                                what if this small community

never broke apart like I did

                              who left still rides the 9

  way up windy Skyline

                       the other way to castle rock

         or the old trail that led up

                 to the boulders on the top 

                         of the mountain overlooking

          San José, Los Gatos, Saratoga

                                 Campbell, Milpitas, & the bay

     they shut it down 

                             because of spotted horned owls

  just a gate you had to hop

                    probably more an excuse for the art 

& other forms of debauchery

                          we’d perform like a sacred ritual

  until sunset getting so fucking high

                                   we couldn’t even figure out

           the local kids took a screwdriver

                                        to the tires on the car

                          it had been dark a while

                          before the tow truck driver came

                                  said he grew up driving the 9

                     while we went over waves full speed

                      tears of sparks cried from the mirror

             I had to wonder if you were a fan 

                     of sucking the glass dick

                                 one night we were out there

         & the weirdest thing happened

                 we stayed until sunset smoking blunts

    the shadow of the mountain 

                           crept it’s way over the blinking 

streetlights turning on down there

                                    we could hear a television

    on loud from hella far away

                                   way way out over yonder

                  but it wasn’t actually

                                 we listened closely

                      we couldn’t believe it

                                 people were playing 

                                 the hokey pokey

                      somewhere down the mountain

            where our laughter must have roared

       echoed through the thick forest

                                                       we were above

  though the sounds grew louder

                                             the people were slowly 

getting closer

                               that’s when it dawned upon us

  it was an old recording

                                                maybe from the 50’s

     looping over & over

                                 from a small raspy speaker 

                coming up the trail beneath us—

         You put your head in

   You put your head out

          You put your head in

                           & you bang it all about

                                         —I wanted to stay

                           one of the girls booked it

                                     we all took off like a mob 

                                  into the dark forest

                                  the only flashlight we had

                                      started strobing 

                           then totally died

                                         like the beginning

                     of a horror movie

                                                    left open ended

          there were these tunnels

                                      you’d have to crawl under 

      somehow forged thru manzinita

                                     by wildcats & rock climbers

  we’d get on our hands & knees

                                          with backpacks & the acid 

already fully metabolized

                                                  waiting for the effects

  that would hit us on

                                                      the sandstone rock

    overlooking thirty miles

                     of the Santa Cruz mountain range

             a single oak tree growing up shading

                                                      like a symbol

                        bowls & shelves formed

                            into it with lichens at the surface

                                        barefoot in the sun

                                        back when pipes 

                             still had personalities

                                             we’d speak in paradox

                       or not at all

                           gaze out over the whole forest

               dancing & the pastel mandalasky

                                     rippling forever & ever 

        we got to see it with our own eyes

                                     & yeah we were a little late

      getting back to the cars

                                                  everyone was gone

  except a ranger with his light

                        shining in our dilated faces

most of us still carrying our shoes

            after soaking our feet in the water

                          I had to talk my way 

  out of a ticket I was so sorry

                    for wasting their time

    we didn’t know how long

             it would take to get back here

             we were so far out there

       enjoying the park

who was it that put on

     Stevie Ray Vaughn 

                 I couldn’t handle it

I had to drive back home

                        down the windy 9 in the dark

   You need to turn this shit off

                               There are snakes in his throat




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