You Fold 'Round Your Stem  (---Original Version---)

Damn Jim you're expansive minded and far from a nut. I've never done mushrooms or any hallucinogens minus herbal concoctions, but you would be a good traveling buddy. The microscopic knowledge of the other world, the dimension next to ours exemplified in

So what in sleep did we forsake?  
How must we forever stay aware?  
We seemed always to be re-arranged,  
There must be somewhere for us to remain...  

All colours end in your pallid hue,  
Our skins are alike, curled and hard...  
If I could be built from the ground again,  
I’d reach for the flesh that taught us the Flight...  

There is a history I suspect of humankind and the maybe-universe. The feeling grows whenever I re-read your work. Thanks for releasing this Jim traveller.

Good to hear from ye, and thanks manys!  Some difficult hills and distances out there for sure.  One can get a similar effect through say fasting for a few days, with very little water and very little sleep.  Also even playing video games all night, then heading out the door in the morning at daybreak, there's a bit of a colour change and an awareness.  But the other night I was far from Spiritual with the addition of fruity vodka drinks....

So good to be back on the DUP, look forward to being a regular for the next month or so.  and I'll have to spend a whole night just catching up your own prolificnesses over this past while I was away!  Bit tired now, I'll tell this poem/song's stories at a later time....

I'm kind of obsessed with this stanza,

All colours end in your pallid hue,
Our skins are alike, curled and hard...
If I could be built from the ground again,
I’d reach for the flesh that taught us the Flight...

must have more....

Just a few stories on this one, there's just lots of plagarism to this piece.  Although when I wrote the phrase "Child of the Moon", I didn't know it was the title of a Rolling Stones song.  But the phrase is pretty generically universal I suppose... But the real plagarism is the first line of the poem, I spent a night under the digestions of the stems curled and hard, spent it entirely hunched up on the floor inside my bedroom walk-in closet, rocking over sheets of poetry, and penning this poem/song, the first line, I just happened to glance at a box inside the closet for my computer printer, and on the siding of it there were all the pictures of the printer and info on it etc, including a pictoral display showing a fictional situation, a picture of a student-type girl off to college or university, who is typing up a letter in her dorm room, and so it showed the typed up and printed letter she was composing back to her parents or something, and the first line of it read "I don't know my neighborhood very well..." - so there it is!  How things come about!  I admit I've thieved about 2 or 3 concepts and ideas from a few of my friends' writings and works and conversations over the years - I used to know exactly which cases those were, but I can't remember right now!  Seems to be the case I have to talk to myself out loud often when I am alone at my place, not out of loneliness or insanity, but just to keep remembering all my stories, cause I'm at quite the stage of senility already...