Trippy

Yeah, that was the feel I was totally going for when I penned it. Something along the lines of a traditional "nonsense poem" sort of thing, in the spirit of Dr. Seuss and Lewis Carroll. Glad you liked it! :D

I just want you to define me as refined even if my ways are crude and somewhat rude
Indeed my selfless deed of greed unselfishly makes me want everything for me

I am the bringer who snatches all on your table
I want you to be free but freedom is having you my stable
Always there but never prepared
I will save you but picture me posing as everything you fear

For directions follow my misleading indications to a destination we are sure never to reach
'Cause you are caught in a class under the tutorship of one who needs to be taught
Just layback relax while I lead the course
and of course you must know we are sure to be lost

How long will it take to fathomb that I am a nice guy but a little dumb
I want your wholehearted trust in me but I strongly feel it is wrong for you to blindly play along

For when the going is tough and you want me there I disappear and reappear when the coast is clear
Otherwise it is never wise to claim I love you
unless sometimes I am free to switch and hurt you

My ways are slaphappy or should i say i am a happy-go-lucky person
I will never make you sad but you will certainly be unhappy
Picture a pathetic player wrapped in layers like an onion
just say you like me and put aside any other opinion you might have about me

Thank you, dustyjjewels, for a witty, humorous, and rather unique entry.

Jack in the Hat


some lullabies steal my mind
for the length of a song plus a tune
I'm coaxed
to regress and replay the notes
that spell out wonders
and write diagnoses
with commentary

lands like fairytales
long ago and far away
but once upon a time nevertheless
reconstruct to blow trumpets

functioning like the lollipop sticks
that tell the squash from the zucchini
as if and as though I couldn't recall
in their absence
like the scars or the planters aren't reminders
perhaps disguises

maybe I bleed pretty and heal fucked up
backwards and a bit bent
like clock hands in childrens books
I want friends like those
rabbits the bunny writer had
I'd burn all the books for visions like that

clap goes the fox
or bang went the wolf
until pop goes the weasel and
I'm back

Trippt Alarm
aka The Rap Battle


jutting goat rises
insult seduces, bats laugh
mice freefall, flailing


quickly, pygmy screams
rotting onion rattling rough
shadow stalker leers


viper panics, red
mud soaked Buddha listens, sad
samurais swirling


loveless lip quivers
formidable fruitcake chomped
unshackled blind leap


hoarse stream shatters, fool
buzzard revolves, green peanut
emerges quickly


brutality rolls
snidely cursing feet of fire
imploring, vile toes


clown carnivores choke
Confucius confused, fuscia
wrong gongs bong fatal


Lavender rose blooms
Dark Lady of Underground
Bullhorns flowering

Vampire Squid Gloves

Jerry likes to shrimp  
in fishnet stockings,    
toes exposed to taste  
hot salt of his cum.  
Joe enjoys the cod    
on shark tooth blade  
held within his grin.  
Monsters in the dark  
from Black Seas come,  
foaming like the waves.    
 
Give me a skin diver  
with Vampire Squid Gloves.  
Only the black ones will do.  
Blue eyes roll red as he turns inside out.  
Oh what a twist of love...!  
 
Sandy likes red tail;  
lobster claw when boiled.  
John likes rubber clams,  
Oysters raw with grit.  
Ricky likes remora  
and sucking starfish lace.  
Micky likes Sting Ray  
with barbs of pain.  
Chaka's bound in eels,  
To sit on his face.  
 
Give me a skin diver  
with Vampire Squid Gloves.  
Only the black ones will do.  
Blue eyes roll red as he turns inside out.  
Oh what a twist of love  
he pulls me through!

Her Obscene Cackling Green

Down by the wall of the cawing squall
You will hear her cackling green
Whispered words, considered quite absurd,
And commonly reckoned obscene.

“I’ll brush you down there,
with my dandelion hair”
Fibres strike in a flutter, mind in the gutter
As your seed takes to the air

In an explosion of stars
You walk a landscape of bra’s
Conjured by her laugh, the crazy old tart
Custard’s your cream in a jar

As you fall from the sky
With the grace of pork-pie
Widening the door, of this metaphor
To collapse in a web of soft sighs

Her final words come too late
In your compromised state
A flotilla, swirling in violent vanilla
Her debate:“Dear let’s fuculate!”

Poet profile:  http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poets/Franko76/  

:Its about an eye opening night with Lady Lucy ,so i hope it fits this category enough  

-For One Night-
Tiny fish circle in the water
Bliss and memories of fingertips
The sublime feel of fog on skin
Light as a feather but grounded like a flag flowing softly on the liquid air
Bliss
Like a soft kiss but better
But better with a soft kiss from an alike mind
Prowling in the dark with your mind open
Flashing ambulance lights and the hair raising feel of breath on your neck
Wondering about world's away
And then
Spin and it's different
Spiritual escapades
flowing to the feel and the sound of the world around you
Try hard can you feel it?
A brisk ever twisting turning wind
Hits you like a brush stroke
Glowing shining dimming in the dark
We are world's away
Time elapses but can you feel it, as bowls are shared and words are whispered, free from city sounds and intrusion
Can you feel serenity in the fog soaked trees
Who am I? Sitting, watching waiting

Some damn fine entries, sorry everyone, went off the grid for a few days so.I haven't been keeping up with entries

Green Colander War Hat


Well, I see you got a brand new green colander war hat
brand new wire net camouflaged colander hat
Well, you must tell me, baby
how your noodle strains in somethin’ like that
under your brand new green colander war hat

Well, you look so sexy in it
Honey, can I jump your gun tonight?
Yes, I just wanna see
If it’s that surreal type
That hat balances on your head
just like seaweed crossed halo
on a target of delight,
your brand new green colander war hat

Well, if you wanna see the sun bleed
Honey, I know where
We’ll go out and face it sometime
We’ll both just lie there and stare
Me with my rusty doughboy  
wrapped in flying pig bomb wings
as you laugh insanely there
In your brand new green colander war hat  



Well, I asked the doctor if I could see you
”Only if hell freezes” he said
Yes, I disobeyed his orders
I came to see you
but I found the devil there instead.
Knew it was bad when he spat coffin nails
Wish he’d take that off his head,
that brand new green colander war hat

Well, I see you got a new transport
Seen a stretch like it before  
Well, I saw the black flagged Furies
salute you
as they closed its door
Brave fools rush in to glory
What I really loved you for
was your bullet struck green colander war hat.




(Inspired partly by Bob Dylan's "Leopard skin pill box hat" ...but twisted with a more serious anti-war message)

“don’t leave the room!!!”, he said.  i did… so it goes

prelude:              
               
“don’t leave the room!!!”, he said.  i did…and so it goes on my backwards horse,  a bad juggling broken heart jester ride-weaving in and out of love's falling  green-leaving brown wrinkling crushed and crinkled leaving leaves taking shot after shot of my aged barrel soaked 100 proof fermented tears, a cloven hooved beast smiles from me entrails, tail to snout as i wander the hallowed lawns of mr. jefferson's university waiting for the savior to appear, tripping round the rotunda, main lining the white straight and narrow path of enlightenment patrolled by the shadow of corinthian order that frames the logic of this place, till down the slopping quad i find blind homer sitting in naked statue glory be to his stories, regaling a streamlined group of guitar-lyre strumming youth with tales of caged and escaped lions on the deep sea eating all the sailors in the tempest of a god tossed storm, the blood soaked deck drying in the beating whip of the sun's lashing heat, wonders what homer's third eye divines behind the  false eyelash veil of the free, then why is she stripping to pay for it, thinking, sold in this chop shop  of dismembered and reassembled frankenstein truths , pretending it's what it's snot snotty nosed my shyte don't stink and if it does i'll make you pay to smell it and leave you holding the bag future financier frat boy bmw holes from the asses of the privileged they think iyam to be here, on this elevated place of learning, but the ooze from my swampy southern fried pig feet laced with pcp smoke the crack rock lsd transvestites on the corner turning  suck it out 20 dollar trixies for smoke it in methy fixies if ya know what i mean save me jesus and hallelujah nascar still finger licking sticks to the ribs of my dark meat light meat lovers marinade, these words ramble scrambling free range from my, will get cut off one day anyway head, so lets rumpus wild thing running our asses into the dust now to live and tell the tale exhausted, i drop to the panting ground heave breathing on my back in the shifting shadows of the spiraling branch-blooming tree above my head, eyes angled just so to the fire in the south to tiger shark sense in the sea of air the subtle wind-trembling, like a golden prairie of a thousand concubines swaying in wait, tiny blond hairs on the fire burnished spread legged sunning thighs of the girls on the green, i swear blind homer got decidedly firm in his loins with my lusty amusings, when the tree of my shady refuge, an oak now cannon blasting from the earth like a middle finger to  the laws of physics, rapid and upward charging, a twisting undulating octopus of bark river liquid branching arms , a chaos of medusa serpent roots surging through the lawn like a thousand  earthquake snakes, a spiraling side-winding galaxy of destruction of all things man, the rotunda cracks, splinters in black-line veined signs of the apocalyptic white hole gravity of logics demise, the ordered columns disordering, a  collapsing phalanx of  granite soldiers swallowed in an orgy of dirt and worm and sprit-bone warrior yelps, blown to oblivion by sonic boom echo of the hard drumming rythms of the first peoples to story this ground in the painted song and dance of their deaths, the long earned smooth rolling blue ridge, again envelopes the view, this holy of holiest spots, these  most ancient of mounds, once the earth's highest sky kissing snow shimmering peaks,  the mighty world oak now a cloud entwined  vine, it's pumpkin seed acorns turning to grape and wine bursting the purple sky with red showers of  tears, the regret and renewal of all years gone and to come from the beginning to the end form the beginning to the end forever and ever amen flood my mind, drink it all in my friend, my friend who then appears above me smiling, done for now with the demands of dissecting dead things to name their living functions, b'cause our dionysian day dream boy appears to be a simple, move to the warm light creature, in peaceful repose lying on the field of a sunny day, ready now to beat it for the upper rocks to get drunk on an old friends remembrance of days when their fallen bodies took to light and howl at the fat yellow belly moon as if, for it always is, the last howl you'll ever make, but that wily devil had spirits on his side, led i to a locked door outside a big box that opened with a plastic sliding key, i won’t go inside, it is for the hills i cry said i but there was whisky so i let it roll and its all his fault to this very day, we sampled some cider brew then took a ride among old trees and stones that read this is where they bury the dead…  and so it goes……              
               

the psychedelic swing of the prehensile night



greetings furry lecherous monkey of night! what mischief swings from  your  curving tail this eve,    
     
what  burst like sweating tsunamis  to swamp the sand of your  skin in a pharmaco(pan)logical ooze,    
     
shall we start at the black  hole of - guess we didn't die last night - but we had fun trying, right? check the arrest    
     
warrant  again just to be sure our  lysergic haunting of the dead  hasn’t followed us here, from  the big    
     
tree bigger hill  cemetery under the yolk moon cackle laughing from it's wavy reflected river mouth or the paddy wagon      
     
crushing foot slide we did on the metal floor to  crunch our  felonies into dust or the florescent    
     
35mm saucer pupil  chesire mugs we flashed for the  dali melting cop clocks, the mind seed of the mad hatter    
     
night swallowed in the runny sunny-side up eggs of the morning's remembrance    
 

Whoa, now THAT's trippy . BUMP

There once was a place called Philly
where me and a man named Willy smoked funny things and acted all silly!
One day i was chilling in this loud soundless town
just sitting on my head waiting for the sky to fall up to the ground
I smoked some more funny things and grew a big upsidedown frown!
I then looked up which was actually down
and to my surprise Willy grew a disguise and turned out to be a clown!
However this clown was alright, his bright green make-up left no signs of fright,
but this crazy clown was still blowing clouds left and right!
In fact, just for me, Mr Willy now Teehee picked up the sky with all of his might.
Now, no where to stand, me and Willy walked through the sky getting high hand in hand!
Now spaced out i had to come down leaving poor Teehee right where he stands,
with pie in the sky trying to get higher than high, the sun was his bic rolling clouds of some sick, potent and green space man strands!

Nice entry