deepundergroundpoetry.com
< what i saw on my psychedelic drug trip >
If you think green dogs
are interesting then maybe
you shouldn't read any further
as what i'm about to say might
influence you to try drugs that
make green dogs though it's not
that i want to influence you to
not try them either it's just
that i wanted to write this
without adding any more guilt
about feeling good or bad or
neither or wonder or whatever
but if green dogs really don't
interest you then it doesn't
matter that much so go ahead and
read the rest of this which has
to do with a green dog and with
something that doesn't hold much
interest for you but yes i saw a
green dog that kept trying to eat
my potato chips and her name was
ginger and she was really just green
around her edges as her middle was
brown which made sense since her
name was ginger and her TEETH were
WHITE and she also had EYES that
kept LOOKING at my potato chips
which i tried to not let her have
which ended up not working as there
was this CRUNCHING coming from a
green dog but mainly what was
interesting (though not interesting
enough that you should consider taking
whatever drug i might have been taking)
is that she was a ginger-colored brown
dog named ginger who was a bit green
around the edges as she ate my
potato chips.
But, why the cat?:
This poem is all highly calculated using
Riemann zeta functions and whatnot as this
is real, actual literature and nothing ever
goes to waste unless it's intentional.
The simple answer to the question is:
"Cats don't eat potato chips."
(Well... I have one that will lick them to
death and some might consider that "eating".)
A more complex answer is contained in the
similarity of this particular cat's expression,
and the "extended" drug/pet metaphor of the
actual, real literature.
But... all that's just bullshit, the real
significance of the cat is that it compliments
the piece's portrayal of tripping on acid as a
domestic, down-to-earth, experience as opposed
to other more hyperbolically-inclined narratives*.
Also the cat IS ginger-colored while the actual
dog who ate my potato chips (which were actually
Cheetos but I changed that for my legions of foreign
audience members) in real life, was a silver poodle
named "Mephistopheles". [/font]
*On my trip a week later I was sucked through a
silver-gray toroidal vortex and merged with god(s).
- - -
[/font]
Published 26th May 2012
| Edited 27th May 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5
reading list entries 2
comments 5
reads 1385
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
Leaving the poem itself alone for a second, I must ask why you decided to post a picture of a cat, with that story about a dog? (yes, I did just ask DU's resident benevolent troll why he posted something random.) Back to the poem, I like how it's very rambly and tangent-oriented, gives the right air of spaciness to the narrator's voice.
Please note: The answer below was self-referencially
copied into the poem above post its posting here
and not the other way around and none of the process
in any way made use of alligator clitorises.
Definitely NOT random: It's all highly calculated
using Riemann zeta functions and whatnot as this
is real, actual literature and nothing ever goes
to waste here unless it's intentional.
That said, the answer to your conundrum is simple:
"Cats don't eat potato chips."
(Well... I have one that will lick them to
death and some might consider that "eating".)
The more complex answer is contained in the
similarity of this particular cat's expression,
and the "extended" drug/pet metaphor of the
actual, real literature.
But... all that's just bullshit, the real
significance of the cat is that it compliments
the piece's portrayal of tripping on acid as a
domestic, down-to-earth, experience as opposed
to other more hyperbolically-inclined narratives*.
Also the cat IS ginger-colored while the actual
dog who ate my potato chips (which were actually
Cheetos but I changed that for my legions of foreign
audience members) in real life, was a silver poodle
named "Mephistopheles".
*On my trip a week later I was sucked through a
silver-gray toroidal vortex and merged with god(s).
27th May 2012 9:38pm
eye f'eels most sad for thee logicians among us -
this is the best run-on sen'tence wit eXplanatious feetnoting that eye've read all day...maybe all week.....
a pardadoXymoronic bravissimo, sir Lemmy !
this is the best run-on sen'tence wit eXplanatious feetnoting that eye've read all day...maybe all week.....
a pardadoXymoronic bravissimo, sir Lemmy !
28th May 2012 4:45am
Right. Can I be an ass and just freely share for a sec?
So if you have to offer that much explanation, don't you fail the actual execution? I mean, this is going to be fabu in future Lit books, and professors will surely fawn over hidden meanings and complicated algorithm in successful poetry...
But... right now, if we were honest, isn't it a fail if you have to explain every aspect? I mean why not just cut the top and work the explanations into a work of art? That's where it gets interesting.
End being an ass.
I read it eight times if I read it once, and it's a psychedelic hot mess, which, if I'm not misunderstanding, was your intent. Therefore, well done.
28th May 2012 8:07pm
No, that's fine, no assyness felt, just genuine curiousity which is SO hard to find that I not only treasure it but vow to try and give the best straight answer (difficult for me) I can whenever I run across it. But, I'm in the middle of deconstructing two doors so they are small enough to be taken away by standard, no-additional-cost trash pick-up and must get them apart before truck arrives AND deal with two-door-size hole in side of house (pre-constructed plywood shutter has been pre-constructed so no problem there), BUT, right after that, I promise to come back and give a truthful, anticlimactic answer of some sort. But mostly it's: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shaggy_dog_story
