I, Wha, Wool, One

[Gog]

There is an encyclopedia on the compound head
and the I word is mine
Go where you're not
and leave the rest for the arms and legs
Feeling down, so take a shot
feather your brow while the kingdom's dying
Let's make a million
A device to hold them
One minute

 

[(Wordy)]

I think you left the gate open!

(this flows... like it a lot)

 

[Gog]

I'd like people to start reading my poetry on shitloads of acid, and telling me what it's like afterwards.

The true mark of a genius is that his work can be appreciated on psychedelic as well as sober... I have been as yet unable to achieve that, at least most of the time.

 

[(Wordy)]

The last three lines really do it for me. I think I'd find the rest a little opaque if I was on acid.

 

[Gog]

Opaque; that's a good word for how I felt about my poems when I was on acid. I guess it's hard to tap into that world of energy, at least for me; I tend to be pointlessly pessimistic usually (this changes drastically sometimes). My poems come from my more bitter side.