Tripping
by m.s.wardrip
I drop. I wait. I spin.
Tripping is not a sin,
I see the ancient past,
and furious future,
I see the bones in my hand,
As words turn into paintings,
I see symbols like an “A”,
That later in life reveal,
In the same place a huge same symbol,
I feel warm and ill with strychnine,
Passion surges through my veins,
As in one large and heavy freight train.
The walls melt like rain,
The park bench talks to me,
A thousand charging white horses,
Engulfed by seagulls who smile as they whiz by,
A tall glass lady as tall as the sky,
I feel her breasts with my bare feet,
The poster of the pig becomes prettier than her,
The orange tastes vanilla but neon cools the ear,
The mystical tripical illogical local keeps changing,
Into a grey mouse that can run on the ceiling,
But the ceiling is the floor and I am on the wall.
The trip toys I brought in the stash bag are phenomenal,
The little toy soldier strung from the ceiling,
Over a pan of water and the lights go out,
The Bic flicks and so doth the stream of steady molten zip into the water,
A Zip trip for certain, my curtains are hurtin’,
A my mind is toasted tasteful trilogy’s time three,
The mouse ate the cheese and the cheese heard this,
The big cheese heard it and the master cheesemaker curdled it.
Heralding the arrival of the chief king of the entire world,
The six am garbage collector, the uniformed dumpster dumper,
The sunlight of dawn blinded and burned my eyes,
There were patterns of collages passed down with light rays,
Orange heat in my knee just above hovering off the ground,
Into the jello air, stuck like a piece of fruit, to spend eternity,
Blasting into calmness, restricted free to speculate, formulate,
And relate to the state of creation of a nation of trippers.
Trippers need trip maintenance personnel on hand to handle toys,
Make recommendations, to hold to let go and to love, love, love.
All you need is… All you need.
A bird can fly but a fly can’t bird.
What was the question about personal privacy?
Who knows the answer to personal privacy?
What is the question?
Answer to what?
Just that.
Here I am by myself in these forest woods and the briars attack,
Chiggers, and ticks, Ticks and chiggers,
I’ll bet you they know more than a bank fisher,
Or a grocery store clerk,
Or the machine repair specialists at gear,
Sprocket, club, sand, ellmore, tell more,
I’ve come down from tweaking and peaking,
To a plateau of crumbling maverick pie,
To a less delicious pizza covered with politicians,
Dirty politicians, probably get a rash.
Don’t make rash decisions, decisions are rash.
Just make a good citizen and try to blend in,
It’s fairly easy with your social skills in tow,
A yard to mow, and an aunt in escrow,
I’m boiling my blimey mate brain inside, video fast,
Curtailing ling-ling, the jet scene, baling, talong,
See you soon, so long, coming down now.
Down on the ground.
Woah! Slow!
I drank the water… woah,
A festival with drippy in the rain and a far long ago polluted brain,
With a stem and then there’s them who cometh,
I hid away, good night, woke up in Shanghai, China.
Move your facebook to Googleplus,
You can watch ridiculous horrible or nice things and you can have me,
To blame for living in a car and driving to work on a bike,
The owner said I missed one payment and forfeited the property.
Tripping is for the professional. Do not try this at home. Now go to sleep.
From 12 to 82 she is using it to mature. 165 Bears Per Minute. Tripping!
