Broken Soul – Psychedelic Poetry by ۩

Via The Nexian:

Ganja Lion – By Blue Lunar Light (crop)

I was sitting full-lotus around a fire that was whispering symbols in a tipi in the desert listening to the wind howl when I closed my eyes and left. There is a latch that clings to our souls that I know how to undo with a bit of focus. The method is there waiting to be learned intuitively. Passing through the loudest possible explosions of atomic blasts from within, I ride an eternal detachment through an organic tube twisting out of control.

Then it all falls into place with a fold and comes back one piece at a time, almost looking like a cartoon but obviously much more sophisticated. I am in the body of a person walking through a forest in the dead of night. The moon through the dancing silhouette of the canopy is somewhere in between the color of bone, chelated metal and duplicates a shining. Three echoes sag beneath it elliptically rainbow—like mirrored teardrops or breasts. The atmospheric friction eats a meteorite with a fiery streak.

My new eyes move back down now to the darkness that surrounds me. Everything everywhere glows gold with a palpable symbolic indication that is flowing omni-directionally from and through. Sung by the insects in an echo-location sequence. I wouldn’t be able to see these hands without eyes so wide you could stick your tongue in and bend the lens. There’s a light-blue neuro-electricity coming out of my skin and touching the surrounding electromagnetic layers and rippling off into the sea of air.

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