Shit

 

 

It’s the shit

A heavenly hit

Of newspaper madness in light blue sky

It’s a very sad thing

That sorrow brings

That makes you want to die

It’s a crush

Arcane but lush

That lets you know you’re fried

It’s in the marrow

A death that harrows

To open your insides

It’s a flatulent feat

That’s really sweet

And makes our passion slide

There’s now a beat

That vibrates my meat

And I’ll never know why

 

Unobtainable Woman

Oh unobtainable woman

I’m scared to hit on you

You’d probably tell me to fuck off

Then I’d go sniff some glue

Oh unobtainable woman

Your boobies are so cool

I long to kiss them all night long

I’ll always be your fool

Oh unobtainable woman

I dreamt of you last night

Can’t tell you what we got up to

Hiding from the light

Oh unobtainable woman

I long to be your friend

I promise not to get pervy

And slap your rear end

Cherry

The fire that lights the cone sets the world aglow
And fire inside will warp the bottomless psyche.
The acrid smoke of tobacco, the sweet smoke of Mary Jane,
A cocktail of cannabinoids, opening up new cartographies of consciousness.
Smoke fills the bottle and rises to the lungs,
Which flinch and shake in a paroxysm of coughing.
A weird oxygen-deprived lightness in the head,
Then the descent of a warm blanket of stonedness:
Over the brain and underneath the soul,
Over the heart and underneath the mind,
A fuzzy feeling, warm and comforted,
Suppressing thought of mediocre things,
And opening the head to poesy,
By squaring the soul’s circle round the grave.