You crumble in my direction
like a leper
pachouli stink pouring off you
like a poisonous cloud
locks of dread
a glut of months of your own oils and funk
you like to set them on fire
it's your best party trick
"haaaaaay maaaaaannn......you got any rolling papers?"
I want to wash your face in my vomit
an improvement i think
For the record, i'm in some ways hippie-like........and my wife is a total hippie......this poem is a sort of imagined disdain toward earth children..........
Stak
10 comments:
Ooh, I love it! You're my kind of person! (and the header's amazing. Wow!)
Wow thanks.........Ghostrider comes in a close second to Captain America in my book........
stak - kind of punk hippy collision. heh. For some damn reason people have asked me my whole life if i'm a hippy. Then they back off quick as my lips curl back and i start to growl. One friend said i have that whole earth mother glow thing going on which pissed me off tremendously.
I. Am. Not. Wholesome. Damn it.
hippie-punk collision.........that's me and Trixie through and through........we compost and recycle.........but we got the Jolly Roger flying from the deck........
We compost and recycle, too.
And all the while, our heads are a-bangin'...
I think those things aren't hippie things to do anymore. They've gone mainstream! (Ooh. That's even worse than being called a hippie, I think)
I missed the hippie era. I recycle, compost etc., but I like meat and stuff.
Great descriptive poem, because I have met people like this and I can't figure them out. Describes them to a tee.
"pachouli stink" - what a great phrase!
and "Locks of dread" - brilliant!
(I don't know whether I was meant to laugh, but I did. Quite nastily)
Way to bring back my childhood, Stak. Wow, it must have been a lot worse than I remembered -- either that or your imagination is pretty harsh. :D I like patchouli myself, though it's not a scent I could ever wear.
My favorite hippie party trick was a zilch. For those unfamiliar with the term, you take one of those thin plastic garment bags you get from the dry cleaners, tie it in a series of knots, suspend it from a clothes hanger over a pot of water in a doorframe, and set the bottom end on fire. As the plastic burns and drips into the water, it makes a fascinating zzzzzilch sound. The knots are particularly spectacular.
(NOTE TO ANY CHILDREN READING: Do not try this once all the adults have passed out.)
That picture is great -- I can almost smell the armpits.
I want to wash your face in my vomit - one of my favourite lines.
love the rollicking, stinky, chaotic good time this poem evokes.
Thanks for stopping by my site earlier today.
susan- you're probably right...and yes........mainstream is a 4 letter word in my book.....
amy-meat good........thanks for the compliments...among this company it's an honor.....
rebecca-you can laugh if you want to.....preferably like you're possessed........it's all good....
robin-you're most welcome for the bit of nostalgia.........pachouli smells like dirt......and "Zilch" sounds batshit nuts.........
christine-glad the poem evoked fun for you......i could do worse.....i'll stop by your place again soon..........
woowee.......thanks for reading folks.........
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