Here's a little fiction for you, circa Y2K. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, will result in me pleading the 5th.
Psychotropic forest
Dream wood forest
warrior
Patterns light in
darkness
Light fades into
shadow
Batting silence
Bugs sidle the mirror
face
Tartness flecks the
tongue
Cellophane dried
On packing peanuts
And the journey
begins
Marconi’s version of the truth:
The
Gila has always called me.
“Sooweet, motherfucker,” it screams, like Samuel L. Jackson would say as
a guest on Green Acres.
So
once again the Gila called to me so I knew I wanted to go somewhere into the
Gila. Upon Kruze’s suggestion of
either Willow Creek or Snow Lake...
Marconi pauses mid
joint rolling.
He cackles madly as I
type these words.
He is upset that I
have interrupted his words.
He spits the sweet
venom
Of joy and innocence
upon me
We light our way...
Marconi’s version of the truth:
The
paper must be clipped. It was
soooo tight... No
inspiration. Lump o candle; even
parents can love it has a beautiful household item.
I
had experimented with pot before and found it to be a very delightful and
enlightening experienced. It’s
helped me see things in a new way, a gentle way compared to the other so called
intoxicants. It’s not harmless but
it’s relatively so, especially compared to legal drugs like alcohol.
I
wanted to experience the new dimension that mushrooms would give me. I hd read it was more intense but I was
looking for something more than what pot has given me so far. I knew I had nothing to fear about
them. I read it was gentle to your
body like pot. It sure tastes like
shit though.
shit the flushing of the
body
dream a little dream
oh winking brown eye
we see the corn and
peanuts
in your mound of the
amorphous
bacterium
Marconi’s version of the truth:
We
loaded up the jeep with our supplies, the usual stuff for camping. I rolled a couple of nice fat spliffs
and Kruze grabbed the mushrooms.
The mushrooms weren’t what I expected. They looked more like barnyard detritus, shit laying
around a horses stable.
Possibly a mixture of straw, hay, and horse yummies thrown in? Did I mention that they tasted bad?
oral nonplan
deconstructed trip
did I say that?
irony spews forth
liquid falling
in scenes to come...
Marconi’s version of the truth:
Smart
ass comments of sourpuss create laughter even in its deadly sting. It’s time to back up. We hit the road, hamburger... was waved
through the bunghole patrol (Kruze’s note: are you a mexican sir? *bang*) and pranced our way into the
beautiful pastoral setting of the Gila.
the vulva. our penetration
of the gila puts us into a warm and pleasurable state of being (Kruze’s note:
like a good hard shag). in a way,
we were making love with the forest.
as insignificant as we seemed, the warmth and spiritual wetness of the
Gila rose to a perpetual swelling of our state of being. engorged if you will. The teasing strokes of the Gila coerced
us in further and deeper, penetrating to the center of the forest’s potent
vitality and creative force.
sexual mask
hair pie deep
spreading larger and
deeper
until we
a green 4 wheel drive
vehicle of
fertilization
descends to meet the
resin the cum
the juice of that
protects
and gives life to the
pregnant woods
On the gravel road we saw a bear running up a hillside. It was a rare treat for both of
us. Amazing how the wilderness
inhabitants are rarely seen even here in their own home.
We continued north deeper into the forest. Soon we drove through the tall
ponderosa pines. I love these
trees because they symbolize the West so much for me. Driving through these pines forests on such an isolated road
makes me feel very much closer to nature.
I looked forward to mixing the mushroom experience with the beautiful
vistas before my eyes.
fire danger low
dry as a fleck of
desert sand
perhaps they want the
fires
perhaps its time to
raze the trees
and put micky dees
and disney
in its place
The campground wasn’t exactly all we had hoped for, but we
were definitely ready to get out of the car. So we set up camp, had a bite to eat, then retired to the
tent to begin the ritual.
Kruze divided the dried and crumbled mushrooms between us,
giving me a bit more than half so I could have a more powerful first
experience. Awful nice of the guy
since it was his mushrooms.
looks like dust
tiny fungal bones
white and dry
the desert of the
birth
the desert of wonder
that does not share
like
we do. the desert does not
divide in two.
Despite the awful taste (did I tell you they taste like
shit?), I managed to choke down my portion of the shrooms. Now it was time to wait. We decided to take a walk down by the
nearby shallow lake. It wasn’t until
we returned with some firewood that I began to notice the mushrooms taking
effect. Things started to look
closer. As time passed, my sense
of depth was increasingly distorted.
Objects halfway to eye level looked far closer to the ground than normal. Kruze looked like a wise old gnome as
he sat in his folding chair and peeled an orange.
sitting face aglow
the great gnome on
his throne
no, it’s papa smurf
laughing his bearded
laugh
tinted like neptunes
orb
sinking reptilian
into the patterned sand
During this time, I noticed a rapidly pulsing flicker, as if
a weak strobe light were going on in my peripheral vision. As the light faded, this strobe effect
did as well, but I started noticing intricate geometric patterns in every
object I stared at: pine needles,
tufts of grass, the bare earth, pieces of wood, and just about anything else I
looked at. (pause for a few tokes)
like snowflakes
patterns with no
patterns
scattering chaos
making order
“it’s in the darker
areas too.”
yes. yes it is. and the strobe light has faded alot
like the arrival of
night would accept
anything else
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