Posts Tagged ‘smoke’

scream

Back ensconced in ward 8 Bentley Hospital in my flytrap mind

At least I’m with my crazy people

Suicidal ideation with cold claws of depression around my throat

Empathy and cigarettes as I meet the gentle mental

Telling tales of trauma as we lurch toward medication time buoyed by companionship

Memories of their voices

‘She was born a heroin baby’

‘I took an overdose of Valium and a shitload of antidepressants’

‘I tried to kill myself twice’

‘I wish I was dead’

‘I tried to hang myself with a sheet and the nurse found me’

People rendered fragile by the viscous blender of earth

Some think us hopelessly broken

We balance madness and sanity in our brains sometimes madness wins

Medication time, medication time

Drugs are shuffled by doctors and dolled out to wild-eyed victims of the societal meat-grinder

Titration of pills and prescriptions to quell anxiety, depression and delusion

Uppers, downers, round and rounders

Anti-psychotics, anti-depressants and heavenly benzodiazepenes

Then we sit outside in the courtyard to smoke to punctuate our day

Sharing cigarettes with noble depressives or exploring thought projection with shamanic schizophrenics

We dance a devilish dance in a rain of paranoia

Until it all becomes too much

We are sad, we are sometimes shattered

Sometimes hard to love

But we laugh and we smile too

Then howl out the agony of our souls

We will keep trying

To get our heads together

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oak

What does it mean to be free?
Free to smoke too much weed without getting hassled by the pigs
Free to meet ladies of easy leisure in funky pubs
Free to shoot smack and smoke ice till my brain falls out
Free to drink sixteen pints of beer and stumble down fractal streetscapes
Free to stay in and vegetate watching crap on TV
Free to scheme esoteric schemes
Free to dream esoteric dreams
Freedom not to bullied or hassled out by anyone
Everyone should have this kind of freedom
Man Free Woman Free Gender Queer Free
All God’s children dancing naked in an oak tree forest in sensuous spring
Bounded by a crackling stream rolling over rounded rocks
Sky a hallucinatory blue with a gorgeous rainbow

Hallelujah, Praise God from whom all blessings flow

ice-smoking

Empty light-bulb
Diamond blast clarity
Sky-rocketing head-rush
Crystal frenzy
Thick white smoke
Inhale
Exhale
Inhale
Exhale

Soaring forehead to sky white bliss
Angels kiss my beard above the clouds
Googly eyes popping
Feeling funky like a monkey
Feeling fried brain tai-dyed
Towering ego over clouds
Impervious to sleep
Impervious to hunger
Churning jaw
Too much fun
So against the law

smoking meth

2 pm I take a taxi over to Shelby’s place. Her X Brad is there and they are both really excited to see me. I have the money—they have the contacts
It’s time to do some serious drugs

First up brad says he knows some guy from who lives not far away
I say I want 200 worth and he heads off
Shelby and I chat—it seems that no time has passed since we met and we always get on well— but we can’t resist bitching about how long brad is taking

Finally Brad is back
I think it looks a bit light
But bugger it
Stick it in your arm it will do you no harm
he mixes up and brings out three 1 ml syringes with about twenty mills in each

He gives me a shot—I know it’s gone into the vein in my hand when I see the blood
Then comes a substantial but not transcendent head rush
I feel like my senses are more accurate
My head feels clear as glass
I’m pinging

Then we get some beers and start some serious drinking
Shelby gets a call saying she can get a good hundred from her friend Su
So the anticipation builds again—Brad is still there so in theory I could still shoot up, but I thought fuck it— I’m going smoke this shit
Su rocks up with the meth and I pay a hundred
Brad divides it up and puts my share on aluminium foil
I wait until the smoke gets thick and white then suck it up with an empty Ventolin
The smoke tastes bitter, but not unpleasant and the rush hits my brain like a runaway train
Wow smoking is as good as shooting
I feel electric surges through my whole body and my eyes open wide
After about three smokes all the meth is gone but I’m buzzing all over by this stage and my teeth are grinding
The world is infinite and crystalline and under my control
I am the Ubermensch

Then Shelby gets a call offering a point for fifty bucks
Fuck me we’re going to get even higher
In ten minutes it’s here
This time I smoke it through a proper crack pipe
No thick white smoke is wasted and soon I feel like I’m towering over the universe at hyper-speed
My eyeballs are popping out of my head and my jaw is moving
I think I’ve had enough.

When you talk
I can hear gears whirling and missing
And see misfired electricity racing to the end of burnt-out of neurons
You are talking to yourself and not to me
And you always smoke all the weed

Your world is populated by imaginary friends
A whispering, mumbling, shouting cacophony
And you’re always talking to them
But you say you’re not schizophrenic

You are convinced of your genius
But how much is pretension
And how much is delusion
And how much sanity prevention

‘Artist’ is a wall you hide behind
To avoid getting help
It’s all getting tired
Call the doctor

You need help
Like fifty psychiatrists in Jamaica bent out of their brains just thinking about your problems
You need help
Like Freud and Jung tag teaming you on a couch of marshmallows help
You need help
Psychologists, psychiatrists, psych-nurses, witch doctors everybody helping you
Then you might get your shit together
And stop being such a pain in the ass

crazy

Come all you twiddlers at the edges of sanity
Come all you cases, you syndromes, you diagnoses
Come all you students of advertising for secret messages
Come all you crazies, you weirdos, you saints, you martyrs
Don’t be afraid of your aromatic nuttiness
And take it all a bit too far
Dance in the mud on magic mushrooms while angels dance in your hair
Nod of in a corner on immaculate Thai white smack
Smoke rock and get a tattoo of a Wookie
Thrive on the helium atmosphere of pixie dust perversion
Hit on your nurses and steal other peoples’ medication
Baste your bottoms in cream cheese and stuff that monkey full of plums
Until it feels more real than sanity knows while your madness grows

Beat down the bushes around your consciousness and let your spirits soar in infinite space
Because now is the time and this is the place

Teenage prostitute smoking heroin (chasing the dragon), London. Model released.

Teenage prostitute smoking heroin (chasing the dragon), London.
Model released.

Heat the smack on the foil
Chase the dragon
Inhale the wandering bead
Chase the dragon
Wander through gorgeous opium fields
Chase the dragon
Go and score some more
Chase the dragon
While the longing is pure
Chase the dragon
While the hunger is vital
Chase the dragon
Chewing your own tail
Chase the dragon
Let the smoke rise to heaven
Chase the dragon
Let your consciousness roam
Chase the dragon
Let the ball burn across the foil
Chase the dragon
Collapse and nod off in a corner
Chase the dragon

morrissey

Cold metal silence
Time stumbles on thick moments
Broken coffee cups
Dirty plates fester
Full ashtrays
Piggies rustling in their cage
Solitary fly sneaked in through an open door
Ease into the armchair
Such exquisite relaxation
Lower back muscles loosen
Roll a smoke
Inhale
Exhale
Coughing fit
Curlicues of smoke from mouth
Light incense
Smoke from cigarette and incense forms spiral staircases to nowhere
Bored
More melancholy than depressed
But not uncomfortable
Time for a Morrissey album

cocaine
I can’t score cocaine in Perth:
I can’t find the neon plastic dancers who appreciate the covert way of the snow white powder.
I can’t do line after line of coke and feel sped up and powerful and chatter extravagant bull-shit to my mates.
I can’t experience the peaks and valleys of a raging rollercoaster cocaine addiction.
I can’t get crack either and I’d love to know why this is so.
I can’t imagine why someone isn’t bringing coke in on a boat or shoving it up their ass.
I can’t understand why organized criminals don’t get their shit together and import the stuff but,
I can’t afford it anyway.
I can score pot in Perth:
I can go to an open house and pick up a gram for thirty bucks.
I can smoke it up with my mates and dream of fields of undulating green covered with mature female mull plants in bud.
I can feel my brain go all fuzzy then begin to recite hallucinatory cabalistic texts.
I can imagine Bogota, Bogota a city of cartels and homicides.
I can imagine this city where cocaine flows through arcane veins.

Living Room

Posted: August 12, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

messy

Twisting Serpentine smoke corkscrews from a huge pile of cigarette butts:
Highlighted against the curtain by a ray of sun-light and I can’t take my eyes off it.
Smoke curls around inside itself, swallows itself then fades into the air.
A helix of smoke arises from an incense stick and mutates into curlicues and the herbal odour permeates the atmosphere.
Smoke seems to be emitted from everywhere in the room, everything smouldering between apathy and antipathy.
Empty beer bottles are like used condoms waiting for disposal,
Dirty plates all over the floor like land-mines,
Waiting to trip someone up or smash into a hundred pieces.
A month’s worth of opened mail on the floor, ripped open, envelopes everywhere,
Combed for particularly desperate bills- everything else radiates from a central point.
Dirty mugs, bowls, pens, papers and miscellaneous crap festering on the coffee table.
Fuck me, what’s it going to take for someone to use the bin around here?