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Sorry, I completely understand how tedious and difficult poetry can be to comprehend but this one is pretty basic. Do not worry, friends, I check my WordPress every day; I’ve just neglected to write in it having neither time nor available resources. Hopefully that will change soon. In the meantime, while I fine-tune some narrative works, here is a poem I wrote about my first trip on shrooms. Enjoy:
In days of confusion
I wandered and watched
Engulfed in seclusion
Feeling lonely and botched.
So under nighttime gray
I speculated life
And an aura came my way
Appearing dull but dreadfully rife.
Once again I found explanation
To grief and unease
The journey to elation
Was masked in disease.
The irony is clear
When we resist to decompose
Only an intellectual can cohere
What every man knows.
In absence of order and desire
We will finally be one
But unless glory we retire
We’ll be forced to endure suffering of our son.
Thank you.
P.S. I am not referring to Jesus Christ (I’m an atheist in all honesty) but what I mean is our actual, physical, child.