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The Official POETICS thread

Migrated topic.
After my 110ug blotter/20mg DMT synergy the other night.​



Tribal faces collide, bursting tears divide, suns set on evergreen rise, pictures moving through time, lessons learned, all so sublime. Purple velvet skies, rip n rise over through the effervescent tides, unarmored thought flow freely as it must, everything lost in it's own wonderlust. Dripless beginnings, there til the last drop, thoughts form silent hurricanes, everything unhinged, up until the last thought.​
 
Good to be back again here's something i wrote recently its very freely written hope you guys enjoy.

Give in,retract,come back
Drift along,side by side
Give in to calm acceptance
Reasurred,barriers dissolve
Disintegrating magnetic selves
Re-integrate,Re-emerging together as one
Surging through the astral vein
Mothers nectar,the colour of your eyes
Rolling back into your skull
Constricting rose,your thorns pierce my skin
Your mark on me,your effect over me
As eyes syncronise mimicked pale and clear
Do you see me as I see you
Far away beyond the main vein
Crucified,nailed to the cosmic heartbeat
Mother has never forsaken
God fragments vibrates to universal pulse
simple union,each step closer to reconstructing our source
Weep like a widow
From tears emerge sunbound avialae
Molting blue veil of tears
Catches alight,ignites the burning fires of immortal passion.
 
Operation Final Sunrise

Sifting through the broken shields
And shattered glass, and crumbling bones
And wading through the living dead
To watch them writhe and hear them moan
A moment passes by unknown,
Their timeless eyes upon my throne
My children crying all alone, oh when will you come home,


The enemy hides in the branches,
Deadly, like a broken heart
Silently he makes advances,
Angry, callous, tasting vengeance
Rising up like death beside us
Waiting till he has advantage,
Laying dormant like a virus
Honour me with violence,


Their missile strikes were met with silence
Never running, never hiding
Even as the sky turned violet,
Turn and fall to find me smiling
Conscience clear,
Yet changing like the sea,
May Hell open its gates to those who oppose me
The opportunity has arisen,


You awaken to find yourself broken and ashamed
The perfect prisoner
I show you the truth and you ignorantly react,
Altered, confused, mesmerized by the mirror,
Your anger now a problem
Your instincts now a weapon
Sanity lingers in front of you
Like a Rainbow,
Permanently just out of reach.
 
These savage times

i have kissed you point blank strange
my ethereal lips, held up on translucent bone
and ive sipped the saliva from your spine
your a certain flower
your smell reminds me
of times rewound in my belligerent mind
the point blank memory of you
as a ghost in the fog
in cosmic soup
i will never lose the taste of space
the smell of fading memories
from mingling our tastes
i will never go away without that last embrace
when i see your face fade into yet another place
whispers still permeate my ears sincere
all of those violent compliments
the endearing pest you've let me miss
were never here, but forever feared
one more kiss on your ethereal, translucent lips
point blank savage
and the burn of icey spit
the bitter tincture
imbibed from the stems
of special plants we brewed
to watch us wild away in style
with our turbulent smiles
and those sarcastic winks
the memories that unfold
then tucked away to shrink
i see your smile
as wide as the fields
of ethereal bone
where this kiss i wield
on your eyelids
one final moment missed
the translucent kiss point blank on your lips
and the bitter spit
sucked from the petals of time
the brine that pickled us in moments unkind
ive setttled for absence
instead of near
your somewhere in my mind
your somewhere deep inside my eyes
a glimpse shot back from inside a tear
your refelection in fractiles as atoms that bind
this point blank memory i kissed strangely kind
my translucent lips
on your etheral mind
point blank savage
wickedly kind.
 
been editing some trip reports for my book and thought id throw this up,

I sat still and silent,
I breathed deeply while drenched in darkness,
I watched while thoughts were brought,
No connections or continuations collaborated,
I simply saw speculation perfectly ping in and pleasantly ping out,
Calmness came and stillness surged,
Reaching right for juice made magic.
Knocked back, lights off, concentrate on breath.​
 
A little diddly from my days as an angst filled teen.

Slowly losing common sense for fear of what they see in the mirror.
Fascinated by death, they wander alone and ponder the next.
That answer you seek will be finite and true,
And wander alone you'll ponder the next.

There is nothing left for us as we writhe in the grip of cosmic machines.
Infinite gears have turned, and will turn through truth and lies.
Snakes eyes and crows feet slide unnoticed in the waste.
A lonely traveller walks free of choice.
For the third he has taken since the day he was born.
Until the gears rotate forever.
Unending without hindsights beginning.

A man walks into the sunset without fear says the stone faced father to his favourite boy.
A man dies tomorrow at the expense of his father
who told him this knowledge when he was a boy.
That is the way of the land...​

That people fear the sun is absurd.
To crave the comfort of winter, where beasts do not lie in the land.
But wrapped around figures smoking quietly in the street.
On mind, not but what was admired in a mirror after warm embracing rain, kissing skin with cleansing lips.

In sun, the mirror is enemy to but a few who are quick to realise the weakness of mortality.
Quick and wise are far and few between, for the sun mirror will bare all and more.

Lost and obsessed the sunkissed carefree wander for as many eyes to see.
And many eyes will see and crave again the comfort of the winter beast.

The winters are long where the seas grow wild the stone faced father said to his favourite daughter.
Be wary of the sun in that place, that is the way of the land....​
 
I'm turning my dinner into poetry tonight.


One finger pointing
At the moon
Night anointing
Silver spoon

Midnight calling
Come again
Starlight sprawling
Has no shame

I find myself
In times like these
By myself
In times like these

I'm not myself
In times like these
Merry makers
Enemies

As it's rising
Fills my eyes
Early morning
Has no skies

If we must keep
then keep the dust
But I like sleep
And sleep I must
 
To the stars.

A disastrous phase of culture has pervaded the land.
Where a man can murder, without bloodying his hand.

Borne out of stagnant isms from an ignorant past.
Uncountable voices scream loud and fast.

Have the tools for communication failed us ever so dramatically than now?
Have the silent gaze upon the bright screen, fingers tapping cut the promised path to enlightenment?

The green sphere encapsulated by orange machines,
Ticking, clinking, tapping, pushing.
The sphere takes upon itself the end results of its inhabitants.
Screaming, but not dancing.
The green sphere is alive.
Breathing, not suffocating.
The orange machines are chewing.
Suffocating from excess.

Believe what you will, do not will what you believe.

A sudden shock lived through the eyes of a node,
A node which knows no feeling of shock.

A torrential downpour of answers, amidst a drought of questions.
An arrogant afterthought, belies uncomfortable indigestion.

To the stars I say, and sooner be than late.
The green sphere is dying and all we do is wait.
 
This one I made last night.

And when I saw nothing was there
I couldn't help but sit and stare.
All a ruse with which to play
And here I'd chased it all the day.

A child sits cross legged and sighs
Blinking closed her childish eyes.
She know this, what I have known
And on her face it's surely shown.

An ox his head his heft his girth
Happily upon this earth.
All of him fits through the gate
But not the tail how so? What wait?

If you can tell me why it's so
And sure I am that you will know.
Then heavenly you will be free
Of strange peculiarity.
 
I'm longing for storm clouds on the horizon.
Rain splashes the window above with heavy winds.
Laying under a blanket on the bed with you.
The skylight open slightly letting in the chill.
A few rain drops fall on my face.
It's grey out but a cobalt blue still comes in from above.
I hope it rains forever.
It smells good.
Goosebumps on our skin when the wind hits just right.
We cuddle closer.
I kiss your forehead.
I close my eyes.
I hear the rain and you breathing.
You take one long deep breath.
I stop dreaming.
You're not here.
 
I love poetry and wanted to start a thread to share some. Please add any poetry you would like. Thank you!

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Derek Walcott
 
Suffer the existence of ignorance
Attaching yourself to your cravings
The truth you had a glance
And it is yourself you should be blaming

Your efforts lost on a path of wrong
upon a reckless flight
Now you hear a new song
And it sets you back to right

The sillage of your existence
is not inutile
Now is your emergence
And worth all the while

Impermanent but connected
No constant to be observed
All suffering is deflected
Now receive peace well deserved

DmnStr8
 
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

This is the last section of: W. B. Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium”


This concept of leaving the body to become a golden disk in the sky has always reminded me of the DMT experience....

-EG
 
‘The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead

This is a line from: As I Walked Out One Evening, by W. H. Auden.

Because of terence mckenna this line will always have psychedelic significance to me...

-EG
 
The Alarming Decision


The shattered remnants of yesterdays promise
the scarred remains of next weks dreams
here he comes, the great innovator of time
Beguiling the weak with his constant analogy,
seperating pleasure from immunity to disease
using a sewer to breathe.
Uttering whispers of his final deed, he gives himself up to the light
a beautiful rolling juggler,
spoling every quiz show and owning all the gold
serenity of course opposed this dilema.
Everyone thought they could win
 
I Love You’re…
I love your shiny smile
And your diamond lip,
Your jailhouse ink,
And your crooked tooth
I love your deep blue eyes
And your great big sigh
I love your big fat ass
And your milky thighs
But I can’t stand it
When you cry
When you hurt
When you ask me why
And I hate it when you don’t say goodbye
And I will
Do for you
What you do for me
Make you smile
Make you cry
Make you laugh
And I’ll make you sigh
So close your eyes
And know I’m by your side
There’s nothing left to hide
Because I love you
Yes, I love your
Perfect little self
 

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Spectrum disorder

You, who are suffocated.
Speak, project your intelligence.
They will disagree, of course.
Fight back, secure common ground.
Question everything, you are oppressed beyond comprehension.
You know this, go to sleep.

I, who sleep.
Find solace in my loved ones.
Content with my surroundings, full bellied and comfortable with my
standing.
Tolerant of anothers voice in place of mine, I lack the confidence.
You, who speak of revolution.
You are the suffocated, I am the free.

You, who speak of comfort, to what end I ask?
Mankind knows only suffering, comfortable death is a foreign concept to the majority.
Extraneous comfortability affords no happiness.
Freedom is relative to the oppressed, so I claim true freedom.
I take ownership over my thoughts, they are unique as are yours.

You, who speak of unique cognition whilst following the whims of the
horde who shout for more, more what I ask?
To be happy is to be content, contentedness begets a wanderers
mind.
Silent constructs negate silent populace, solidarity is an abstract dream.
We have everything at our fingertips, but you seek to disrupt.
To be happy is to be content, contentedness begets a wanderers
mind.

I, who follow the whims of the horde who shout.
Find solace in my effort.
Not content with the status quo, passionate, aware.
I speak of higher patterns, climates of nations, corruption and abuse of many.
I shout on your behalf because you are comfortable, suffocated.
Dead.​
 
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