xx_mx.missile_xx
Bluelighter
Frying eggs with the silver acid Christ (mdma poem, any feedback?)
Any thoughts or feedback would be appreciated. thanx.
Frying eggs with the silver acid Christ
How we remember that tribal movement
The taste, the season and the shape
The beats of a million hearts
Beating within the thriving unison of endless drum and bass
Drum and bass, ambiance, this fucking beautiful techno-electronic love rhyme
Peace, unity, respect, isn’t that the way?
We’re all so beautiful now and here
Here and now, really then and there
We’ve really done it now, am I right? Is everything ok now?
Defying speed, we’ve broken the outer wall
We’re really here now, or were it then?
Transcending and streaming and taking and raping
Sound and light and speed and death and love and candy
Candy, candy, candy, candy, candy
Candy could sure be dandy, in the summer or the fall; any time at all
A never ending flow into the eager mouths
Of all the starving, pretty, frail, angelic little candy kids
Boys and girls munching on chemical love and biscuits, with not a crumb to waste
Now they move in a strange ceremonial offering, could you see that?
Heads held high, with pacifiers proudly, tightly tucked within the lippy orifices of entry
And Vicks never too far out of reach
What a lovely scent, that one of minted vapor intrigue
It’s a strong one, like glass shards in the eyes
But without the aspect of pain, which is now reversed to allow a pleasant dazed confusion
Painfully un-painful actually
With a speedy rush penetrating simple black lungs
Speed, speed, speed
Light so fucking absolutely bright
With a searing infliction and gooey-soft center
The type of tooth decaying sweetness only concocted by angels and mad-men
By the God and the chemist
And is only made sin by the way of the unforgiving, ignorant
Whom could never understand such enlightened and spiritual beings such as us
No, we were so different, like purple-bleeding moon, a hearty breed indeed
Because purple was always our favorite colour, was it not?
We were quite special actually, beyond any leeching understanding that they could grasp
Beyond any justification that could be provided by the written or spoken word
We were all like leaves, falling from the mother tree
The mother tree that was quite right to cut all ties
The mother tree that forced us into a sound and light wasteland
And how pretty they sparkle
We were there, so high. Too high to die, but never to cry
Tears would be a way of life after all
How else to express that deathly gut-wrenching, almost painfully inexpressible bliss
It really was like they say, with being part of the clouds
Those dreadfully clichéd clouds, so pearly white with moody little cherubs
All flying about and playing tricks on those less fortunate
Those clouds were our breeding ground, our holy ground
The only ground that could never be taken or burned
Not in one day, not in two day, not in old day or in new day
Empathy, peace, euphoria, understanding, and love…most completely love
The shit that dreams are made of, no doubt
But that our nightmares spin dreams from ironically
We threw caution to the wind for our little spirit bomb
Never before had anything so pretty been so bitter, with a familiar scent of bath
Accompanied by cramping, nausea, blurred vision, sweaty palms, dry mouth, jaw clenching and in so very rare cases death
The latter, most often caused by a greedy ambition
Ambition, the sickly disease of the human condition
Most practiced by merchants promising God in a tablet for 20 dollars a hit
But we didn’t care; we were strong and well grounded
The stars were crystallized and blinding, but we knew, we were untouchable
So far so good, knock on wood
We would all play risk for the illicit baptism, and let our eyes swim in our skulls
And when the moment of conception was at our minds’ third door
We all fidgeted for a moment, nearly dropping that precious little key
And heaven was a soupy mess of artificially fabricated, multi-colored lights
And entangled sweat soaked bodies vibrating through a flurry of sound and motion
A need for the crowd, a need to burn bright and fizzle
And to eat the stems of all deathly little flowers in this re-born garden
We were all standing and moving and grooving and breathing and gasping
Sickly pale and lovely thin like rubix-cube junkies
Full of overflowing death-breath
I paused for what must have been a cold, long look at warm, red flowers
My bright, starry-eyed, sappy gaze connecting first with hers
That of my first love
And then on her, my synthetic mistress, so purely blood red
Such as the slightly sweet, swelling dab in the corner of my lips
There was a wonderful satisfaction in this glazed confusion
Of participating in this trance-fuelled love triangle
When in sharing center stage with she and her, at the point of highest drama
The building of what most certainly could be surreal dream, but somehow isn’t
I simultaneously drop, embrace and interlock in a dopey, sugar laced kiss
Whispering a diluted ‘I love you’
Drowned out in an orgasmic wave of sonic death, birth, and rebirth
The world is a spinning lolly-pop
Of glazed over faces and uncontrollable smiles, twitchy lips and blessed teeth
Flailing arms reach for nothing but the air that sustains ignorant existence
And I without quite completely knowing in particular
Which love, I’m quite in love with here and now
But incidentally I, and by that I mean we, are reeling and balancing
Then pulling yet dividing, all or none, into one
Unconditional chemical-imbalanced romance
Love the love that I love to love
And I would love you too, and all, and any
And nothing and everything all rolled into one flaky coating
This love, this same love that grows and twists
Manifesting into the perfectly beating heart of God, never missing a beat
Oh that, oh so pretty, lovely, mutilated, yet somehow perfect heart
Swelling so large and bloated with understanding
To the point of over-flowing, when like a silly painted flower never meant to live
It wilts and droops, and drips, and bursts, and fries and sizzles
And with loud manic laughter and giddy smiles, it dies and commits serotonin-suicide
All upon the alter of my mind’s seventh eye
Leading me now to the drained, sapped, dulled, numbed, pain filled and painless
‘I want to kill myself, but somehow can’t’
Near zombie-fied stupor that embodies the nature of this nexus of bleeding nothing
This disgustingly strung out, after feeling that can only be earned
Through stressing our insidious little nerve receptors and endorphins
To the brink of the big, black space
And back to this plain terra floating humbly within that space
This same strung out, wishing to die, neither loving nor hating
But rather being absolutely blank in the mind, feeling
That will come a million more times, and in respect to that
Will pass idly by a million more times
This bottomless sadness to which I’ll always return to pay homage
If only for that one evening, that one celebration each week, month, or even each year
That celebration, that tradition, that habitual ritual when my heart stands out
Is blessed to love more than any human heart was ever warranted
By the infinity, the heaven, the universe, to love
And more so almost then perhaps any human heart ever should love
But for now my bones need bending and my soul some mending
Now, I feel quite blue
Like a Paxil poster-boy who’s lost in a castle made of the finest Lego available
With little route for escape, and rusted razor blades simply strewn about
And so I wait for my chemical romance to redraw itself
When everything becomes invisible
Except for the wall that binds the sweet-nothings of our humanity
And the tribal dance of electronic funk and space age martyrdom bind all I know
To the decaying glue located in the back of my mind
But remember one thing, dear friend, source, companion, teacher, brother, sister, mother
Father or whomever this may concern
Please keep in mind a valued fact; above all else, that being in the most simple of terms, a water bottle is an E-tard’s best friend.
Excuse me for not being subtle.
just a very long poem bout E....maybe abit too drawn out, but i just had to writer everything i felt. any thots. please, constructive criticisms, thank you.
Any thoughts or feedback would be appreciated. thanx.
Frying eggs with the silver acid Christ
How we remember that tribal movement
The taste, the season and the shape
The beats of a million hearts
Beating within the thriving unison of endless drum and bass
Drum and bass, ambiance, this fucking beautiful techno-electronic love rhyme
Peace, unity, respect, isn’t that the way?
We’re all so beautiful now and here
Here and now, really then and there
We’ve really done it now, am I right? Is everything ok now?
Defying speed, we’ve broken the outer wall
We’re really here now, or were it then?
Transcending and streaming and taking and raping
Sound and light and speed and death and love and candy
Candy, candy, candy, candy, candy
Candy could sure be dandy, in the summer or the fall; any time at all
A never ending flow into the eager mouths
Of all the starving, pretty, frail, angelic little candy kids
Boys and girls munching on chemical love and biscuits, with not a crumb to waste
Now they move in a strange ceremonial offering, could you see that?
Heads held high, with pacifiers proudly, tightly tucked within the lippy orifices of entry
And Vicks never too far out of reach
What a lovely scent, that one of minted vapor intrigue
It’s a strong one, like glass shards in the eyes
But without the aspect of pain, which is now reversed to allow a pleasant dazed confusion
Painfully un-painful actually
With a speedy rush penetrating simple black lungs
Speed, speed, speed
Light so fucking absolutely bright
With a searing infliction and gooey-soft center
The type of tooth decaying sweetness only concocted by angels and mad-men
By the God and the chemist
And is only made sin by the way of the unforgiving, ignorant
Whom could never understand such enlightened and spiritual beings such as us
No, we were so different, like purple-bleeding moon, a hearty breed indeed
Because purple was always our favorite colour, was it not?
We were quite special actually, beyond any leeching understanding that they could grasp
Beyond any justification that could be provided by the written or spoken word
We were all like leaves, falling from the mother tree
The mother tree that was quite right to cut all ties
The mother tree that forced us into a sound and light wasteland
And how pretty they sparkle
We were there, so high. Too high to die, but never to cry
Tears would be a way of life after all
How else to express that deathly gut-wrenching, almost painfully inexpressible bliss
It really was like they say, with being part of the clouds
Those dreadfully clichéd clouds, so pearly white with moody little cherubs
All flying about and playing tricks on those less fortunate
Those clouds were our breeding ground, our holy ground
The only ground that could never be taken or burned
Not in one day, not in two day, not in old day or in new day
Empathy, peace, euphoria, understanding, and love…most completely love
The shit that dreams are made of, no doubt
But that our nightmares spin dreams from ironically
We threw caution to the wind for our little spirit bomb
Never before had anything so pretty been so bitter, with a familiar scent of bath
Accompanied by cramping, nausea, blurred vision, sweaty palms, dry mouth, jaw clenching and in so very rare cases death
The latter, most often caused by a greedy ambition
Ambition, the sickly disease of the human condition
Most practiced by merchants promising God in a tablet for 20 dollars a hit
But we didn’t care; we were strong and well grounded
The stars were crystallized and blinding, but we knew, we were untouchable
So far so good, knock on wood
We would all play risk for the illicit baptism, and let our eyes swim in our skulls
And when the moment of conception was at our minds’ third door
We all fidgeted for a moment, nearly dropping that precious little key
And heaven was a soupy mess of artificially fabricated, multi-colored lights
And entangled sweat soaked bodies vibrating through a flurry of sound and motion
A need for the crowd, a need to burn bright and fizzle
And to eat the stems of all deathly little flowers in this re-born garden
We were all standing and moving and grooving and breathing and gasping
Sickly pale and lovely thin like rubix-cube junkies
Full of overflowing death-breath
I paused for what must have been a cold, long look at warm, red flowers
My bright, starry-eyed, sappy gaze connecting first with hers
That of my first love
And then on her, my synthetic mistress, so purely blood red
Such as the slightly sweet, swelling dab in the corner of my lips
There was a wonderful satisfaction in this glazed confusion
Of participating in this trance-fuelled love triangle
When in sharing center stage with she and her, at the point of highest drama
The building of what most certainly could be surreal dream, but somehow isn’t
I simultaneously drop, embrace and interlock in a dopey, sugar laced kiss
Whispering a diluted ‘I love you’
Drowned out in an orgasmic wave of sonic death, birth, and rebirth
The world is a spinning lolly-pop
Of glazed over faces and uncontrollable smiles, twitchy lips and blessed teeth
Flailing arms reach for nothing but the air that sustains ignorant existence
And I without quite completely knowing in particular
Which love, I’m quite in love with here and now
But incidentally I, and by that I mean we, are reeling and balancing
Then pulling yet dividing, all or none, into one
Unconditional chemical-imbalanced romance
Love the love that I love to love
And I would love you too, and all, and any
And nothing and everything all rolled into one flaky coating
This love, this same love that grows and twists
Manifesting into the perfectly beating heart of God, never missing a beat
Oh that, oh so pretty, lovely, mutilated, yet somehow perfect heart
Swelling so large and bloated with understanding
To the point of over-flowing, when like a silly painted flower never meant to live
It wilts and droops, and drips, and bursts, and fries and sizzles
And with loud manic laughter and giddy smiles, it dies and commits serotonin-suicide
All upon the alter of my mind’s seventh eye
Leading me now to the drained, sapped, dulled, numbed, pain filled and painless
‘I want to kill myself, but somehow can’t’
Near zombie-fied stupor that embodies the nature of this nexus of bleeding nothing
This disgustingly strung out, after feeling that can only be earned
Through stressing our insidious little nerve receptors and endorphins
To the brink of the big, black space
And back to this plain terra floating humbly within that space
This same strung out, wishing to die, neither loving nor hating
But rather being absolutely blank in the mind, feeling
That will come a million more times, and in respect to that
Will pass idly by a million more times
This bottomless sadness to which I’ll always return to pay homage
If only for that one evening, that one celebration each week, month, or even each year
That celebration, that tradition, that habitual ritual when my heart stands out
Is blessed to love more than any human heart was ever warranted
By the infinity, the heaven, the universe, to love
And more so almost then perhaps any human heart ever should love
But for now my bones need bending and my soul some mending
Now, I feel quite blue
Like a Paxil poster-boy who’s lost in a castle made of the finest Lego available
With little route for escape, and rusted razor blades simply strewn about
And so I wait for my chemical romance to redraw itself
When everything becomes invisible
Except for the wall that binds the sweet-nothings of our humanity
And the tribal dance of electronic funk and space age martyrdom bind all I know
To the decaying glue located in the back of my mind
But remember one thing, dear friend, source, companion, teacher, brother, sister, mother
Father or whomever this may concern
Please keep in mind a valued fact; above all else, that being in the most simple of terms, a water bottle is an E-tard’s best friend.
Excuse me for not being subtle.
just a very long poem bout E....maybe abit too drawn out, but i just had to writer everything i felt. any thots. please, constructive criticisms, thank you.
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very unique flow, reads very freely. great expression of thought, well done putting all that to paper! 