psychedelic poem from an old friend
Automation by Brian Preece
A pen to the paper like a needle to the groove sliding
vinyl of nervous systems uplifted
liquidating inhibitions which I use for my ink
The conquest of dawn is the highest high of them all
when all is said and done under the sun as it comes
and the drums are all thrumming all morning-noon-night
until the canyons are all lit up with silver and the widening
eyes say, "Ahhhhh!" with heightening delight towards the
calling song of the fossil moon reaching out with lurid
slow glow of transient Space and Time and Space and
Time and Space and Time and whole galaxies giggle
and snicker at that poor Holy Fool which is You!
So bored and dreadfully unattuned to the depths of
your own divinity not realizing that you are capable
of unbreakable, profound lucidities and masterful
wrathful slayings of narrow cretin mentalities
with the blazing sword of love and wisdom
slicing holes in multiple realities.
Cooly, you scan time. You've seen the chemistries
unfolding with their tweaked elements and seek
ancient bliss amidst the blazing spritz of sun in it's
chasm of azure to assure hope in a world of abject despair.
Meager sprouts of doubt can't barely overshadow
the Vast Shining Omnipresent Eternal Aura
which is everything and nothing all at once,
with or without time, without petty contrivances of mind,
just perfect natural perceptual clarity, arising independently.
Clear warped vibrations are engulfing nations
breeding, feeding, enlivening, enlightening,
and frightening on sight the oppressive systems,
boomed and disembodied by cartoon hooligans on E
with hugs for your mother and your father and
your sister and your brother and even your
blunderous blind blight of mind limit.
Far from the flock I stand alone with headphones and
a wry smile with guile because I'm versatile, sublime
prevailing with a mind of torrential thoughts that clot
and disperse unto this terse earth of our births and I sense
the dark spectre of man, testing the terms of the tangible,
tortured in a cage of his own construction, the only exit
being the next dance, the eternal dance - transcendance!
Ahh, but there ya go, lost again, wondering if life is all strife and
unfreed by a disgusting need to define your self by your sufferings.
Living like a self-saboteur; tearing at the mangled roots of your psyche
when all you need to do is simply breathe and heed the beat.
I'm telling ya….you just simply need to breathe and heed the beat.
God, I wish you would just stop and breathe and heed the beat
breathe and heed the beat the beat the beat the beat the beat.......
Shakespear's gone? Dont even think about it! The Poetry of Brian Preese
SOMALOGOS
OMMMM - Somalogos nommos proto-comadosed host of the überintelligentsiac psilocybernautical cataprismic cosmoclysm - a bodhizonkkva of the veladamelodic telestereo initiation song bomming on and on - join my mind mackinations - the perrors and erils - occlusory esoterror in the chapel paralust where the apple of dischordially fnorged chaossified tastespine spacetime cartoonuums becomes annullified by that bigbadster Casper The Demiurghost - Oh prey for the posthumanimal malady - Oh M'lady with the red hairing - shall I consult the visionary dictionary for teleointuitive omenvoracious vial-elations or simply bust the orahistorical auratorical retro-rhetorigasm? Don't give me your puritentacle dogmagick! I'm not a cryocynical archontypical neophobic automasonic hope smoting pope - Oh Nope! Just gno ye that Dexter O. Meth has been Orphaned, that poor stumblenumb adeptussitive, along with his spy-chic psyedchick Sally D. Vannorum - eidetic tic-tac-totalities - overdosed from Pharaohsis - wasted in oasis, waiting for an Eleusid mantid mantra from the endogenerous Trypt-overmind - just some hard-cortex soma-textual tribalistical apochryphallic linguage - subliminatory transdementia - amalgorhythmic cons from the connective conscience collecting vurtual sloppydead props of megatronic deceptacon banaloquies - just tune-in & turn-on yer tell-yer-visions and see the ignor-mmercials - I saw Aleister Cookie on Sesame Street Silver Star, so blow your Argentenor Abraxaphones Astrumm Acuckoostical guitards.