Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Days in the woods, waiting...

A ritual is an Elixer
its production
an act of consumption
a medicine show man
stuck on eutopian
a dream that is (PLACE)
or is it searching? simply
alchemical traces of mind
making promises in ritual
to stay
for now resisting
feelings to flea forever

there are mere moments
where a silence and still thought
takes over, starting at my fingers first freezing
and forming a clearing
instant-sense like first spark to Salvia Apiana

searching with the witching rod
the flow of this earth holds tight
for the rushes will inevitably flow

O is for Occultism
for Otto Edler
for Over-man
under which we
look left and right
my eyes search daily
for basidiomycota AHA's!
In the surrounding woods
my comfort
after 4
still covered in smears of house paint
smiling at the rain
and leaves showering down
tinging my cap
and readying dikarya
I start
growing the beard of Hericium Erinaceus
bearing the teeth of Hyndnum Repandum
and glow like Omphalotus Olearius
to blend in

never let the woods suspect your entry

I'm learning to love
the alone
a sense
forbidden by most
internally uncontrollable
absorbed by few
when surrounded by so many deaths
this comic nature turns
to a sense of organic urgency

meet me where the mushrooms grow
my fallen loves
and we shall feast
never under a god, but a totum
only representing you
my dearly departed

as above
so below

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