Bim! Bim! Bim!
The experiences come

Crammed once
Into thoughts

Crammed twice now
Into words

What is left over for you
My poor dear lover

Who I have not
Yet met

Though I wish to meet
All of you

If you happen
To be multiple

Or just one
Would be fine too

If you really are the One

Having not yet found you
Oh grandmaster God

With more pronouns
Than I can fit on a line

While still maintaining
The rhythm of the words

Broken up
By appropriate line breaks

The music of it
Makes so much sense

That it need be born
Into poetry

Which can be reduced
To oblivion

As long as that oblivion
Is still broken into verse

Because there must be
A music to oblivion

It cannot come all at once
Just bah!

And there it is
No, it must come on somehow

And so
There must be the line breaks

It comes a little
And then breaks

Comes a little more
And then breaks again

You are feeling it, aren’t you?
As if you were here
With me now

Fuck the couplet

Let it be one line
If it wills

The blind adherence to form
Has been the circumcision
Of so much good art
That would have otherwise
Bled on past the margins

Margins, which our boundless souls
Must be forced into
For how else could we survive?
And by “survive,” I mean
For our physical bodies
To persist, in time

Out of sync, I’ve gotten
The words overpowered the rhythm
Which is how it happens
Sometimes
Like back when I said
Fuck the couplet

All so harmonious
And rhythmic
It feels to me now
As it’s all music
On mushrooms

But how can I bring it back
Why
Do I need to bring it back?
But then
What am I to do?
Mushrooms all the time?

Is this life for me?
Or is it for others?
Beautiful, it is, when
By being me
I am for others
In a way they want

And so I wish for it
Crying on my knees
Begging please
But I would jump up
Just so giddy
The very next second

You would say I am crazy
As we are accustomed to calling
Anyone who can experience
Those two very different emotions
Deep serious sadness
And singing joy
So suddenly
One after the other

But I can, I tell you
I can
So much
That it seems most appropriate
To dance and sing
Out of my skin even
Explode into all of it
Around me
Return to what I know I am
But forget, I do
When I am not on mushrooms

And the problem
Is the rawness

How can I shave it down
Real particular
Into a needle that will pass
With little pain
Through the pore
Of a sober man

So the only pain he must endure
Is either
Reading, listening,
Or watching

Into his soul, I must pass
Somehow

How do I get in
Through his body

He has holes
His nose holes
His ear holes
His mouth hole
The pores of his skin

How can I get in?

Not to take you by force,
Dear brother, no

Take me, if you would
Please

I come onto you so strong
With all the desire
That is really my own desire
To be come onto
In disguise

Care not, we need
About who is coming
That we are coming
Together
While we still can
Is the point

But the great song and dance
Is just that
Called so
For a reason

The arts are how
We’ve all agreed
To come onto one another
And really enjoy it
With the ecstasy
That is otherwise only appropriate
Behind the closed doors of a bedroom

Where we have shut our sex
Into such a modern construction
For where did we fuck
Before there were closed doors
And beds with sheets

Out through the cracks
Around the hinges
Through the keyhole
Oozing out from behind that closed door

Our sex learned to define itself
Because getting out of the bedroom
Was only the first step
And then past
The guards at the door
Was the second step

So we disguised our sex
Into art
Song, dance, poetry
We sang to the guards
Danced to the guards
Read to the guards
And they let us go
Out of the doors

And we ran free
And ran and ran
Until we were exhausted and hungry
So we ate and slept
And then woke to run
But to where?

We ran for years
Until we realized
The love we were chasing
Came from the guards

The bedroom was ourselves
They locked us in there
Locked us in ourselves
What a trick!

And all the fucking desire we had
To fuck
Was for the guards
Whomever they may be
Anyone, really
Ourselves, even

The real question is:
Who built this house?
We don’t seek to punish you
But merely to show everyone
That you aren’t so great
So we can then proceed
With tearing the house down

Our sex need not be shut up
Who defined it as it has been?

I have gotten too particular
I do not wish for this to be a novel
Oh blah blah blah
I am back again
I have come back down from the mushrooms

It will continue on for some time now
Along the plateau
But the come up has come
And gone

July 02, 2021 at 03:46PM