Pink

I took a walk,

It was cold outside.

Inside in my heart I burned;

Some distances are too far to walk.

I leaned against a car,

And ran a hand through my hair,

You live too far, I sighed

And a cloud formed on my lips.

I walked back home in a daze-

An image of you had formed on my gate

You offered me your nape,

I encircled your waist,

And together we stood there

And dreamed of escape.

More of these days

Another day of bright sunshine,
Another day of falling romance
A day meandering in parks,
A day sleeping in cars,
A day chasing rabbits,
A day for all my habits;
36 nights in a row i fled,
Down the dusty streets of red,
Littered with dry rose petals
In search of the velvet thread,
I found two brown stones
and threw them both ahead.
A scattered wind collected the dust
and carried it away in a gust.
Now the velvet road was clean,
when i saw a camel lean-
On a Moslem arch of sandstone.
I shook my head in despair,
Another day of mobile phone repair.

With more and more and more
of these days,
There seem to be, More of these days.

Kiss

Smile,
Smile at me.
Look,
My brows are knit.
Feel,
this silent kiss;
Don't sigh and walk away,
Stay,
and be with me.

Silver Dew On Emerald Grass

When another day had gone by and not a word of her was heard, I shut my eyes and returned to my starry eyed dream. In it was a rainbow and a unicorn, the grass was green and the sky was blue and the horizon stretched out as far as the eye could see. I ran over gently rolling hillocks to catch up with the unicorn which was hopping away merrily leaving trails of cheerful tunes.

Suddenly the unicorn stopped and looked up at the sky. I stood next to it and, putting one hand gently on its back, followed it gaze. I heard distant thunder and a light drizzle began to come down upon me.

With a strange sense of purpose I threw my leg over the unicorn's back and rode on, toward a pink glow coming from way off in the horizon.

As i approached i saw a mosque like structure, made of brown stone. The pillars on each corner rose up toward the sky, six in all, and a robed pink figure stood in each of the towers. I could feel their gaze upon me, but sensing no hostility I jumped off my unicorn and strode inside, into an oasis, a garden, a bejewelled play pen. A large dome covered the sky and many colourful tropical birds took flight at my approach.

I walked on on soft sand which felt warm and relaxing under my feet. The ground was divided by potted plants with thick green foliage. And then slowly, one by one, the other unicorns came out. Each was a different colour, yet each was every colour of the rainbow. I could not believe my eyes as a beautiful white mare startled me by flapping its wings right in front of my face. I smiled at it and it bowed gracefully at me. I saw that it was standing next to some steps that lead to a platform. I climbed upon the platform and on to it's back.

As the other unicorns rode on in unison under us in a triangular formation, we flew straight at the glass rainbow which welcomed us with a million crystals of light.

But the darkness, the thunder, the rain made their presence felt as I realised, another day had gone by without any news of her.

Bumpy Trumpy Spade

Moonlight beckons me down the street

I could not but my lover meet

Thrice forlorn and rather dazed

For a swig of rum my liver crazed,

Throngs of motion filled the haze

You could not but put the glaze

On the pots and pans and silver trays

Of crying children lather paste

To clean the hoodlums off the face.

Fine knickers and dirty clothes

Hung to dry on silver ropes,

Thrice forgotten my lungs began

To breathe begotten trump brigande.

Crazy, daisy, lazy tree

Speak the book, come after tea

Mend up this apple skein

To fill the cupboard seldom clean.

When a cold wind blew

From the north of the stove

It took out the flame

Carrying it thorough,

Down the street in a big furrow,

A juvenile freak with a rusted hoe.

Nails of lentils, corn and maize

Ate the insects lorn and gazed;

supplying them with a misty haze

A crow did crow a big ca-rr-oo

A lumpy, humpy, stumpy maid

Carried the frayed press

Down and praised

Over the hills and after the days,

I chumpy, crumpy, lumpy laid.

A Vulture's Man

Too long I have roamed these lands
To ask someone to lend their hand
To fill sand in virtue’s well
And desert this living hell

The splinters of a ship
Smashed by a cannon ball
Are held aloft like diamonds
Against the sun
That ship cannot sail
And the water is all but dry
But that glint in your eye
And the driest of smiles
Says you stopped being
Your mother’s child

Like a leper you crawled
Out of this moment
Always to look back
At your guinea sack
Where you and your memories
Spread disease and lust
For all that wasn’t to be

I fill this well with sand
And leave the land
To quench my thirst with blood
And die a vulture’s man.

The Invisible Landscape

"My notion of what the psychedelic experience is for- is that we each must become like fisher men and go out onto the dark ocean of the mind and let your nets down into that sea, what you are after is not some behemoth that’ll tear through your net, foul you and your little boat into the abyss, nor are what we are looking for a bunch of sardines that can slip through your net and disappear; ideas like- have you ever noticed that your little finger exactly fits your nostril and stuff like that, what you are looking for are middle sized ideas, that are not so small that are trivial and not so large that are incomprehensible, but middle sized ideas that we can we can wrestle into our boat and take back to the folks on shore and have fish dinner. And every one of us when we go into the psychedelic state, this is what we should be looking for, its not for your elucidation, its not a part of your self directed psycho therapy, you are an explorer and you represent our species and the greatest good you can do is to bring back a new idea. Because our world is endangered by the absence of good ideas, our world is in crisis because of the absence of consciousness, and so to whatever degree anyone of us can bring back a small piece of the picture and contribute it to the building of the new paradigm then we participate in the redemption of the human spirit, and that after all is what its really all about!"

-Terence McKenna

Complete and Alive

I felt as a child,

destructive yet fragile
Sadistic and agile;
I took a stick and beat at the leaves
I took a fruit and smashed it on the trees;
I saw a flower bed and cut off their heads

I would not stop till somebody told me
What this meant
Why did everything seem
So accepted, so undisputed?

Love

Love
Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from theperfumes of spring. I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;how did your lips feel on mine? Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks, the white statues that have neither voice nor sight. I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your eyes. Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory ofyou. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you willdo me irreparable harm. Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls. I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window. Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shootingstars, falling objects.
Pablo Neruda

Like a smile it stays abloom
Nestled in the crest of your eyes
And shines out like a single ray
Of a candle from your lashes

Your lips cant speak
For the trembling
But how silently the visions

Stand bowed and ready to be realized

The value of PI

Between the shadow and the soul
I awaited the eternal,
I followed the spiral
Till it revealed to me this moment,
And love became Just,
A four letter word.

Freedom

I stared down at the valley below from my sanctuary of pine and oak. Something in the view told me I should be amazed by this, something said I should gape and continue to gape until I found a reason to go back home. The reasons for heading back were mounting, it was getting cold, the mosquitoes were killing me, but something in the view told me to stay, to stay and not to gape. Someone promised me that I would, at the end of this, be able to see clearly.

I had once read of a man in Peru who, while staring down at an expansive valley, had visions of events beyond his birth, he had been gifted a motion picture of all that had transpired in his life, and when he returned he spoke of an energy, an energy that bound all of us.

When I had read this I was sitting on my bed at home, very warm and cozy, and I began to visualize a mountain range, just like the one in his view, and I believed that very soon I would get there. The excitement of believing, that I could travel anywhere I felt like, still coursed in my veins. Rebellion was such a high while it lasted.

But here I was, reliving my greatest chemical reaction, after having arrived at the place in my dreams. All reasoning left me, and I felt like a child who was being deliberately ignored because he would commit the same mistakes over and over again. An icy breeze, much like the one felt in the wake of somebody leaving in a hurry, lapped at my beard. It felt tingly and ticklish and I reached out to scratch it, and I thought, if it is indeed discipline that I lack then I am done for. The curtain would never be raised, and I would never be able to see what I wanted to see.

From somewhere between my shoulder blades a mocking bubble had seemed to burst, it was making its way up my neck. When it reached the point where it felt as if I would drown in it, I sprung up, ran up the mountain and flew away into the twilight with my arms outstretched. I could not accept someone else’s reality, but at least I had tried.