Posts Tagged ‘trip’


Do your thoughts ever surprise you?

Do they rise up like sharks from you unconscious and bite you in two?

Rendering you paralyzed with fear and paranoia

Are there sweaty poisonous thoughts subtle as ferrets that eat you up from the inside?

Or wild roller-coaster thoughts that trip your skull out to the edge

Do they come as voices and gibber and gape in your cranium?

Telling you to kill yourself or someone else

Don’t do it

Chill the fuck out

It’s just an illusion of the mind




Posted: January 8, 2017 in poetry
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You turn me on

You smoke a bong

You bend me out

You are a lout

You break me down

You spin me round

You trip me up

You steal my cup

You funnel me through

You break me blue

You frenzy my penguins

You crack me open

You dance me dead

You fuck with my head

You encompass my accidents

You scramble my sentiments

You embrace my ravings

You focus my cravings

You tremble my bones

You hog all my cones

We smoke cannabis

Posted: December 20, 2016 in poetry
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We smoke cannabis

It’s so good for us

Pull another cone

And get really stoned

Have a shot of smack

And get really wacked

Do some LSD

Then some ecstacy

Please stay off the ice

It’s not very nice

I like doing drugs

Sometimes I see bugs

Tripping out my head

I will soon be dead



Hey Ginsberg
Imagine if you came to Perth Poetry Club
Would you eye the pretty boys?
Would you hit on SPM?
Give one of your prophetic gnostic readings
Play your harmonium for us and do Father Death and the Ballad of the Skeletons
Have a joint with the boys out the back of the Salvation Army building?
Great teacher, Boddhisatva, beat progenitor
Sometimes I think of you hanging out with Kerouac, Burroughs and Cassady
Digging sky-flecked psychosexual kicks
Drinking red wine and pretending to be a bum
When the world seemed like a wild trip of jazz-flavoured psychedelia
And you made it beautiful



Electric dildo daylight
Muffle-bum madness
Crypto-psychotic musings
To tempt
To trip
To terrorize
All day long
Pants down for action
Yet somehow tempting
Never denied
Always supplied
Crumbly green herb with orange hairs
Dancing naked round the burning civilization
With a hope
Of Transcendence



Posted: June 5, 2015 in poetry
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The eternal jism of your mandrake mind
Drips down the mirror of your brain like tooth-paste
Devouring all thought-submission
Perpetrating sexual mind-transmission

The eternal jism of your maddening mind
Soaks up the voices of pretty pixies on acid
Takes stakes in the game between thought and reality
Beats up the yolk of your decaying ego

The eternal jism of your magpie mind
Slides down wavers of consent
And drips glistening drops
Of hope on dizzy dream poppies
Awaiting your succulent satisfaction
As your ass trembles before the corpse of a lady

The eternal jism of your moribund mind
Lurks in mental toilet-cubicles absorbing graffiti emotions
Sucks on the sauce-weasel of self-contained satisfaction
Beats meat in the corridors of over-reaction

The eternal jism of your misanthropic mind
Trips out on mushrooms until it sees Mordor
Dissolves dust off a purple paisley collar
And waits for a hand-job in a Northbridge alley

The eternal jism of your meatball mind
Waits for of a woman with diamonds in her eyes
And life everlasting between her thighs
And when she doesn’t come lurks in despair
Attempts to expire while mentally impaired

The eternal jism of your megaton mind
Will not unite with suburban eggs
Longs for sun-kissed horizons beyond
Mere reproduction



A gaping wound in the earth descending into infinite darkness
I peer down within and see
Worlds within worlds within worlds
Each slightly warped and unsightly
Spinning in different directions
Gradually corrupting to infinity
Lights, patterns, colours
Tessellations sliding into fractal dinosaur implosions¸
Birthing recurring shapes and patterns within patterns
Gyrating and whirling hypnotically
Repeating, recurring, repeating

I jump down into the pit
Warp speed stretches everything towards a point of infinite light below me
I’m falling
I’m falling
Worlds and galaxies fly passed and are stretched to segments of light
I’m accelerating
I’m transcending
I’m transforming
I’ve not noticed until now that I don’t seem to be breathing
I have left my body but I don’t care
Galaxies and nebulae fly past spinning like coins in air
I’m accelerating faster still
More galaxies and nebula, pulsating around me as I fly past at unfathomable speed

Then everything is dark
I have stopped moving
No sound, no light
Utter blackness
‘Out on the perimeter where there are no stars’
Man of shadows
Solitary now


In the nineties
Kuta Beach, Bali
In town, a big red and white sign advertises magic mushrooms for all to see
The store is populated by Balinese stoners
They offer my brother and I mushroom milkshakes which taste like crap
Costs fuck all
Half an hour later we are in a club
Lights are strobing, speckles of disco-ball reflection flicker over pretty women and ugly men
They are mutating
Suddenly the club is filled with well-dressed reptiles
Forked tongues lick thin scaly lips
They look like human sized dinosaurs
Myriad species
Scales are glistening soap-bubble rainbows
Some of them are wearing boob-tubes
On stage Jimi Hendrix is playing and he’s wearing Joseph’s coat of many colours
When on mushrooms, if you see Jimi Hendrix in the road, treat him as a roundabout
For a while it all seems pretty cool
But then I am scared of the reptiles’ fangs
I am afraid they will eat me
‘I think I’ve got the fear.’
I say to my brother as his head swells up like a meat balloon and he grows vampire teeth
‘I’ll get you out of here,’ he says.
We stagger out of the club and he put me in a taxi after threatening the driver with terrible consequences if he didn’t take me to our hotel
When not on hallucinogens, driving in Bali is adventure
With them it was a journey through a wild starlit wonderland with no road rules and oscillating headlight illumination
We seemed to be on the Starship Enterprise travelling at warp speed
Then we made the hotel,
Outside were some trans-sexual prostitutes
One shouts out: ‘Hey boss, Jiggy jig, me love you long-time, me dangy your wangy’
I reply ‘Fuck off! You’re freaking me out!’

I take the elevator and enter my room, lie on a comfortable bed and bad trip demons are gone
I watch walls slide and shimmer downwards and visit a magical fairy land of coruscating colours and shapes
Kaleidoscope patterns of infinite variety form a miscellany of shapes on walls
Always moving, always changing
Eventually the transformation of patterns starts to slow down
My hallucinations are reduced to fading translucent double images
Then I fall asleep