...Survive Eyedelic...

Visual vomitous; 

glorious disgorgement. 

His inner mind spewed forth to 

there drench my stale sight orbs 

with psychedelic must 

shroom-o-rama. 

 

Psilocybonic mush in a 

room o’ morpheus lush. 

3-D X-ray wraparound 

sling-shoting my 

planetoidal cranium in 

an effort to break free of my 

humdrum soaked in rum 

gravity ladled cranium. 

 

Oh I know what you thunk ‘

bout dat lysergic acidic bunk. 

Step aside. Yea, step aside.

Let him lettuce take a ride.

For his feet are ten feet 

high baby you want some of 

what’s ear in my eye? 

 

I’ve got the hole of his soul 

and there’s nothing left 

to fill it with ‘cause 

most o’ it am blowin' like 

eye flies somewhere here 

in front of my venetian blind I lucids. 

 

And I and eye wants to sleep. 

Eyes wants each two slumber,

but he’s got all ought double ought 

o’ me video-balls in his 

queasy colored cuisenart, and

his thumb is on the button blend. 

 

And my cortex gonna rend. 

And it may just never mend. 

And I should never, ever 

have let his cornea pass over 

my trip too tonic tongue. 

 

Ó05 Jack David Hubbell