Tag: drugs

Opiod Solutions

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn Keith Jaret, The Existential BakerLeave a comment

 

My life sucks
I hate it
So I hurt myself
Not cause I dig pain
For the medication
Them Oxy’s help big time
Not just for the ache
But for the torment
The hurt in my mind
One makes it easy
Two make it fade
What will three do?
Maybe it will go away
That and a few beers
No more tears
So I get numb
Novocain for the brain
My life still sucks
But I don’t give a shit
So I get even more numb
Finally I’m happy
Don’t fucking care
Maybe I’ll take some more
What bad could happen?
If I take too many
Worst that can happen
I may not wake up
That doesn’t scare me
Something much worse could happen
I might awaken
Find my feeble existence
Is continuing to be
I hate this feeling
I hate this life
Slaving to my emotions
Shackled to my fears
One sure way out
Death
This is the night I do it
Swallow a handful
Get the fuck away from here
But wait….
Maybe I’ll leave the light on
Just in case I come back home

Kick it

I wanna perish but I still cherish the love and affection even though I’m embarrassed in fairness I’m suffering from over impairment
Not to exasperate one good lesson in oppression but my obsession is a digression into a deeper depression. With a jump into aggression a head shrinking session might lesson the tension. Bur t what the Hell for?
My funeral pyre will burn till they tire of the muck and the mire of my death fire the higher I aspire the more dire I cry….Help me before my desire becomes my qualifier for expiring.
I know I should stop before I die or transpire but truth is…….
I still wanna get higher

After My First Kiss A Punch to The Heart

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn Keith Jaret, The Existential BakerLeave a comment

 

(from The continuing stories of JT and his quest for Culinary Nirvana)
I stopped off to see Kathy and bought a nickel of gold weed then went to the magazine store to buy a pack of big bamboo rolling papers. I was feeling a bit frisky, which is adolescent code for horny, so I decided I was the one who would set the tone tonight. The four musketeers met up by the corner of the schoolyard near the woods where many of us underage derelicts quench our mind thirsts with beer or wine or sometimes both. I hoped Ken would get out of being grounded, he almost always did, but this time he was busted with weed which was like the ultimate crime of the century or something. Felony pot smoking! Every suburban parent’s nightmare, a child that has been turned into a stoned out zombie from doing the “reefer madness.” Maybe his old man was just too drunk to remember what happened. Or maybe just beating Ken was lesson enough. I flipped when he showed up carrying a six-pack. “ Hey Ken man, give me the cardboard from the six pack, I gotta clean some weed.” This was a ritual in the neighborhood, copping some beer from an older brother of a friend outside the stores then rolling a few joints to get even higher. It was just another night in the land they call suburbia. On this eve we were a group of 12 strong all pounding down alcohol and puffing away on yellow gold high-quality marijuana. Someone suggested heading over to Beth’s because she was having a party and there in an instant and unanimous agreement. Ken grabbed me and pulled me to the side. “JT, did you take those pills I gave you last night?” “Of course I did bro it was awesome. I did the red ones and brought the other 4 with me. I figure I’ll do one and give one to Carrie and you and Sue can have the other two” Ken thought for a moment then said “Lets you and me do the tuies and give the girls one yellow each. The tuies are a lot stronger.” It was decided. We called over the ditz sisters and offered them each a Nembutal. Carrie took it without question and washed it down with some of my beer. A foreign feeling came over me, and somehow I just knew the moment was now. I grabbed her hand and held it like a boyfriend would feeling the sparks instantly. I knew Carrie could sense it too by the smile on her face and the odd twinkle in her eyes. I pulled Carrie in front of me and peered into her soul through her beautiful ocular portals. Without one single word spoken, with just one seemingly small act of mysterious energy, the whole of the cosmos shifted to a slightly uncomfortably yet fully confident and happy alignment. We exchanged nervous glances at first, and then looked deeply into each other’s eyes searching each other desires. Our eyes engaged in the only conversation necessary. With a sensuous and tender movement, our faces shifted slightly and slowly, very very gradually as we moved closer to each other. Maybe she was born with it, or perhaps it was Maybelline, but at that moment no other female had ever looked so amazingly beautiful, and for a brief few moments, no one else in the world existed. I felt a tingling that emanated from my groin and echoed through my entire body out through my fingertips as our mouths opened and our lips met with a furious and gentle tango explosion. All the blood in my body seemed to take the elevator straight to the top and made me wobble so that I nearly lost my balance. With our mouths locked tightly to each other, our tongues danced that tango, tossing and toggling inside each other’s mouths in a desperate search of our new raison d’etre. With slippery hormonal precision, our mouths performed the minute waltz in ten seconds as our tongues danced the entire Swan Lake to artistic perfection. Jesus shit man we were embracing in a wet and desperate lovelock of synergetic bliss. Eyes closed and mouths now hermetically sealed to each other our faces rocked gently as we both drank in the most incredible love infected chemical secretion either of us had ever experienced. We kissed and swapped salivary gland fluids for four or five minutes utterly oblivious to any lifeform outside are now combined nucleus.

My endoreticulum was running amok and scratching my back while it tickled my soul. I loved it! (see? I did pay attention in biology) The only sound in the universe was the soft panting and moaning of Carrie’s throat and the slightly louder moaning of mine. After what seemed like two lifetimes the magic was shattered by a familiar voice when Ken broke up the vibe. “Well, it’s about fucking time you guys.” We broke our lip lock and looked at each other knowing exactly what he meant, and we knew he was right. I think we both felt glad we waited because that was the most perfect kiss and saliva exchange in the history of Cupidon.
From that moment on Carrie and I would become inseparable, holding hands or walking with my arm around her shoulder. We were high from weed and beer, and soon the pills would be kicking in, and even if they didn’t fuck it, I’m in love which as of right now is the best high I have ever felt. Our friends looked at us as if this was how it had always been, no one even seemed to notice how different we felt. We, however, could not stop looking at each other, smiling and kissing the night away. The music was loud, the party was crowded, yet nothing existed outside of Carrie and me. We continued drinking and smoking whenever something came our way, and I gave the weed and papers to Ken and left him in charge. It was getting late, and we were very stoned and delighted. But time was running out in the evening.
No sooner did we decide to leave than a strange tension built up between us. Well not really between us but more like inside the both of us. A sense of anticipation and curiosity filled the small portion of our private universe. Ah, the moment of truth. Should we continue our adventure into adulthood or just take it easy? I felt that awkward feeling because we were headed to that moment we would say goodnight to each other and figure out what the next step of our relationship was going to be. Should I try to cop a feel and touch her breast, maybe take it further tonight or be happy where we are and wait? Suave and cool operator or caring respectful dude? The pills had one scenario and my mind had another. Should I make a move? Fuck man, what if I try for the tit and she gets pissed? Oh my god so much fucking pressure. Tuinols on one shoulder and my conscience on the other. As we walked closer to her house we chatted nervously and pointlessly about nothing. That’s when I realized she was sweating it out too. Well its time to make my move, be a man, do what a real man would do. But what man? Be like my asshole Dad? I’ll never get laid if I’m like him. Like Artie, the scumbag? No, he would probably rape her though I would never say that in front of Ken. Fuck man I have no role model since James got drafted. That’s it. What the fuck would Jameson do? He was caught having sex with his girlfriend once when her old man came home unexpectedly and caught them. They had to break up and James was a mess for months afterward. They got back together of course because they really do love each other but they had to steer clear of her parents. What kind of shit is that? He’s in the army defending I don’t know what an has to hide his relationship. What bullshit! But James was my hero so that was it. I’ll do like James would do. I stopped walking, grabbed Carrie and pulled her close to me. Our eyes met and I could see the look she had was curiosity with a side order of apprehension. “Carrie, I really dig you a lot, and I want us to have a long relationship. This love shit is so fucking confusing! Well if it is love we should be able to talk about shit like this so here it goes. “I want to have sex with you really bad right here and right now.” Her eyes narrowed and she seemed to be contemplating what would be next. I took a deep breath and continued. “But I want it to be right, the right place and time and the right reason. I just don’t think tonight is that time.” Now her eyes began to smile and I think I heard a breath of relief. She smiled the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. Without a single word we both knew it was the perfect choice. “Jesus shit JT, I want to have sex with you right now too but I don’t think, no, I know I’m not ready. But I would have if you asked me to.”

My relief was evident too, and I smiled and said “You would have?? God damn it, now you tell me.” We laughed and embraced each other holding tightly, and I am pretty sure she felt that uncontrollable male muscle pulsating slow and hard up against her hip. Life was beautiful, we were in love, and this new high we found was the best ever. We walked up to her house and stopped just out of sight should anyone be spying on us. We swapped spit, sucked face, made out, French kissed, toggled tongues, whatever the fuck you want to call it for 15 minutes before we said good night. I walked home like each step was taken on a carpet of foam rubber with my head so high in the clouds it took a special request from gravity to keep me on earth. I can’t wait to tell Ken. Jesus shit I hope this lasts.
I’m not sure if the incredible feelings I was experiencing was from love, beer, pot or pills. Most likely it was a combination of all the above but to say my head was spinning would be an understatement. I could feel the effects of all of them having a group hug in my cerebellum, but all I could think about was Carrie. Damn man, I hung out with her as friends almost every day and now all of a sudden I can’t stop thinking about her. I walked straight into my special little spot in the universe past my Mom who was mumbling something about the time, past the dinner table which generally beckoned me over for a tempting bowl of cocoa puffs, utterly oblivious to all the sights and sounds surrounding me. It felt like the giant smile not only went from ear to ear but wrapped around my head a few times. Fuck man, I’m in love!

For the first time in ever, I woke up happy and wide awake. I am ready to start the day a teenager in love. Think I’ll go into the kitchen and surprise my Mom with a kiss. The surprise was on me though because as soon as I got to the kitchen my dear mom was sitting at the table with a bucketload of tears in her eyes and my dickhead old man pacing and just mumbling over and over how “Everything’s gonna be alright.” Mom’s head was shaking, and all she could let out was a desperate sounding sob. She kept trying to catch her breath but sounded like she was going to choke. I looked at my mom, but my words were directed at my Dad. “What’s going on?” My old man looked at me with a shut the fuck up look on his face and spoke forcefully when he said, “Its not a big deal. Jameson has been shipped off to Viet Nam and is headed to a place called Quang Tri. He will be defending the honor of the entire country and our family because he is a brave son doing the right thing.” I knew it was half trying to convince mom, validate his hawkish war stance, and most importantly to him send a dig at my anti-war friends and me.

Mom was becoming increasingly more hysterical, so I chose to let that shit slide for the time being. In the calmest voice I had used with my Dad in some time I intoned outside of Moms audible range, “Dad, Jameson is going to Nam. He is going to risk his life for nothing. Not a big deal? No big deal?” Unfortunately my brazen in love self-began growing balls and my voice raised a few octaves. “ What the hell do you mean no big deal? James is going to fight in a bloody and senseless war halfway around the world.” I was using every ounce of Zen energy to remain composed, but the old shit was feeling guilty and believed increasing his own volume gave him some warped sense of authority. “First of all watch your language young man, you’re still living under my roof. We live in the United States of America and our country needs our help.” I rolled my eyes, yet he continued, “Just because you are a pansy ass chicken who’s afraid to fight doesn’t mean both my sons have to be.” The Old shit felt that his drunken slurring statement was in need of an exclamation point, so he slapped me hard in my face. I was stunned.

The shock converted quickly to anger, and it took every ounce Karma I had to not punch the shit out of his old drunk ass. Mom let out a little scream as my eyes burned holes in the wallpaper and my fingers began to ache from clenching. Being the better person, I headed back to my sanctuary to worship my stereo headphones and pretend I didn’t live in this hell hole of a house. My dickhead father, my wailing mother, and the thought of my brother shipping off to Vietnam for real had completely destroyed the fantastic feeling of love from my first kiss. Fuck them, I’m outta here on my eighteenth birthday!
TBC

Zen and the art of Culinary Maintenance by JT Hilltop

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Centerlawn, 1971
Centerlawn. That’s where I grew up, in my parents suburban dream just east of the Gold Coast Great Gatsby section of Long Island. In the backdrop of this little utopia was a huge cauldron of a media inspired sizzling hot generation gap. A war in Viet Nam, a disregard for civil rights, women’s rights, and youth rights, added to the police brutality all over the country had boiled to the top and threatened to spill over into the kitchens all across Centerlawn pitting sons against fathers and daughters against mothers. It was no wonder all we ever cared about was getting high. My brother was in the army likely headed for Nam soon and if things continue the way they are my entire neighborhood would be in Viet Nam in two years. Being in high school sucked, but it sure was better than dodging bullets and bombs. Anyway, time for some old fashioned get high so let the search begin.

Chapter II The Dream Is Born

A typically boring day in high school where cutting class was a necessary event to keep from dying of boredom. Some of us made it an art form which most often was accompanied with a search for a little buz or someone to share yours with. Three years ago pot smokers were a small group but now the non pot smokers are a small group and most of them were considered “narcs”. So much pot was smoked daily in school that we sometimes wondered if that was how it earned the term “high” school. We knew that was just a joke of course but the amount of marijuana exchanged in the hallways was really was substantial. My particular clan of cronies had earned a reputation for being some of the most prolific pot puffers. I could smoke a huge doobie all by myself and still be able to go to any class and function. At least I thought I was. Any class except maybe gym anyway. Yea the “jocks” Those boneheaded sports enthusiast loved to pick on longhairs. They talked in what I assume was the Cro-Magnon vernacular saying well thought out repetitive jokes like “Hey, is that a girl in our gym class? Hey girlie, the girls gym is next door.” So many times I wanted to say something like “Oh I know, I share a locker with your girlfriend”, but I am much too nice a guy. Then again maybe it was because they would have kicked my ass with their Charles Atlas biceps. Not wanting to get sand kicked in my eyes I opted for keeping it an inside joke. They really would kick my ass if they ever found out I had sold and smoked pot with many of their girlfriends at one time or another.
Anyway, whenever I got bored, which usually only happened on school days I engaged in a ritual tradition that Ken and the rest of my band of merry marauders enjoyed called “Find some Buzz”. We would go in search of anyone that had a joint, or a chunk of hash, and ask them to front us a hit. More often than not when a good friend came by they would ask us if we wanted some buzz before we even asked because we always shared our stash, no one really liked to smoke alone. It wasn’t unusual for Ken and I to run into each other in the hallways because we had a certain few places we always hung out at that were prime hiding spots while cutting class. Today would be no different. My best friends voice startled me, “Hey dude, I have a fucking brilliant idea.” Ken was the idea man and had tons of them. “And we should start saving money for it right now.” As always, Ken immediately garnered my curiosity having blown me away with truly great ideas so often. Ken was brilliant and creative. Many of the other students laughed at him back in Jr. high, because when he moved here from Oklahoma he was the first boy in school to have really long hair. All of five foot six, he had long flowing blond hair that was parted in the middle cascading over his shoulders and half way down his back. He had a rebel soul and I was drawn to him instantly. Like most of the male students I had started growing my hair long in part to look cool, but more importantly to piss off my Mom and Dad. Most all of us had developed a twitch from keeping our long bangs out of our eyes. We all wanted to be Beatle “moptops”back then but Ken was ahead of the curve and had already grown his hair long like……well like a girl. That was also part of Kens appeal. He seemed to know ahead of everyone else what would be in style before it actually came in style. He had gone from a long haired geek freak that was made fun of to a well respected member of the hippie rebellion ranks. Proudly I admit I had much to do with his rise to “coolness” because for some weird reason I was always allowed to hang with the cool kids since fourth grade. It wasn’t that I actually was cool, but I had an older brother and even older sister who had created reputations with the teachers. Those reputations preceded me so you could say I was cool by association. I played kid rules football and baseball with the “older” kids , got rides in my sisters boyfriends “Surf Woody”, and just always hung out with the older kids. So my becoming Kens friend had helped him gain acceptance and move up the hipster social ranks quickly with my friends. It wasn’t long until they too saw how insightful he was to popular culture and trends. Before the end of the 9th grade we were all growing our hair long, and wearing cool clothes like bell bottom pants and double breasted balloon sleeve shirts. Checks, stripes, paisley prints, the brighter the better and no worries if it doesn’t match. Now we all had real long hair, afro’s, long straight hair, super curly locks or like mine long wavy banana curls.
But the first order of business was to relieve the boredom with a little herbal remedy. “Cool dude, but lets go out to La Bomba and do a bowl first. You still got that hash?” As usual Ken came through. “Of course bro, some nice opium streaked black Afghanistan. Lets go asshole.” I hated his “lets go asshole” phrase but he always sang it like a commercial jingle and everyone laughed, so I just dealt with it. Off we went to the parking lot to climb into my car to smoke some hash. My little red Simca, A French sedan type car that was Frances answer to the Volkswagen, “La Bomba” is what we called the car and it was our entire groups pot smoking haven. I never locked the doors because so many of my friends used it at various times of the day, even if I wasn’t there. But this day, at this moment, no one else was around. I could tell Ken was happy about that because he really wanted to talk about his idea. Tell you the truth, I was pretty anxious as well. As he filled his chamber pipe with a small piece of black hash I needed to know. “So Ken, what’s this new idea?” Not a ground breaking or earth shattering question but it‘s hard to talk while smoking hashish. “ Well, here’s the thing.” I heard the match strike and light up as he put the pipe to his lips and lit the hash. He spoke as he was inhaling and his voice got lower and stranger as he talked as if gasping for a last breath but had to get a statement out. The interior of my little red bomba filled up with the sweet herbal haze of hash smoke. In between inhaling and holding the smoke Ken laid out his plan. We would be graduating in two year’s and with no job or plan for college Ken was open for an adventure. I did have a job but at the time I thought it was just a job not a career. I was up for adventure too and most likely not attending college either. The choice was basically go to college, get drafted, or leave the country. I was smart enough for college but my grades had fallen substantially over the last two and a half years. I stopped putting in any effort after my Dad called me a worthless communist because I did a project about the dreaded USSR and the positive side of Socialism. I took the point of view that they had some redeeming values. Controversial but worthy of an A+ from my liberal social studies teacher. Instead of being proud he freaked on me. What an asshole! Anyway our fates will be in the hands of our government considering we would more than likely be shipped off to Viet Nam. Ken thought we could save up some cash, get a video camera and supplies, and head out to Chicago. “Jesus shit man, we can burn our draft cards and just get the fuck out of town.” His idea was to start at one end of Rt. 66 and travel to the other end to Santa Monica where we could settle in with the hippies of California. “You know man that’s a great fucking idea, we can be like those two guys on Rt 66, I’ll be Buzz and you can be Todd.” Ken gave me a punch, “No fucking way man, I’m Buzz, you’re more the Todd type. If either of them dudes were around today Buzz would definitely be in a band. Todd would have a silver pen!” Ken had a love of guitar and film and I wanted to write. His idea was to basically make a kind of documentary of the trip, Ken with his camera and me with my pen. “Bro, you can write the whole thing down in your notebook.” Yea, my notebook, JT’s bible. I took my notebook almost everywhere convinced I was the next James Michner, Jack Kerouac, or maybe even Ken Kesey who wrote about the life of the Merry Pranksters. My book was full of poems, short stories, or just a few of my abstract observationsand Ken’s idea blew me away. To me it was brilliant, the chance of a lifetime. RT 66 was so historic, a television show, the route for all the dust bowlers of the 1930’s who fled to California to escape poverty. Route 66 was the sort of scenic route people took who just wanted to migrate to Los Angeles. I mean Jesus shit, the fucking stones do a tune about it. Brilliant choice, from Chicago to Los Angeles via Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Texas, and Arizona. Ken shot me his infamous shit eating grin and said, “whatcha think, lets go asshole.” I was sold instantly.
TBC

 

Transcendental Medication (Act III)

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From Act II
< She was very attractive with piercing hazel green eyes and long straight black hair tied up neatly in a swinging ponytail but allowing perfectly cut bangs to cover her forehead. Her eyes were as stunning as a Montana sky and just as vast. Butterflies had left my stomach and created a chrysalis caravan traveling through my digestive tract straight towards my reproductive organs. It was complicated even more profoundly by her sensual and suggestive tone echoing through my soul. Maybe she wasn’t even there to begin with, the line that separated reality from non-reality had become wafer thin.>

<Nothing is the absence of anything. Anything is something so nothing must be something if its anything>

 

 

III Begin At The Beginning
J.T. Hilltop

When I got home from The Holistic Center still feeling sluggish from the hallucination induced medicated acupuncture needles the first thing I did was pour myself a big glass of wine. A very big glass of wine. I needed to process what just happened today and decide if it was wise to go back. The more I thought about the nurse I was with the more I feared it was all in my head. Was I imagining some pornographic manifestation of a dominatrix nurse? A scene from “Romancing The Bone” or some such weird porno movie in the hopes of some spiritual sexcapade while under acupuncture meditation? Was it just a wet daydream? Maybe I’m hoping for a close encounter of the supernatural sexual kind. Everything about it seemed so very real and she seemed to know me intimately. Besides I need to know what the hell this everything is nothing bullshit was all about and how far I would be taking this so I’m definitely going. Then again what if I go back to the opposite universe and its Dr. Kha that ties me up and toys with my pleasure zones. Erotic adventures involving Dr. Kha’s thermometer probes and patient doctor confidentiality. Then again if it is the nurse she was so hot and so sexy my libido did triple somersaults with a full twist and was hoping to stick a landing. I would have made a contract with the devil himself for an evening of exploration with her but who and what can I trust? Doctor Kha said equal and opposite! I’m not even sure if she was a manifestation of my inner desires or if that sweet temptress really exists. She seemed like eve thing but maybe its nothing. So fucking confused!
I near guzzled the first large glass of wine and as I poured a second I glanced at the calendar. My eyes went directly to two days from now, Friday the 27th. Twenty seven is a good number as numbers go. Two is balance and union and seven is a very spiritual number in nearly every religion. Together they add up to nine which is the highest level of changes. Hmmm, union, balance, and change! I looked away closing my eyes as if to think about it but I knew my mind was made up. I mean a night of deep philosophic discovery contemplating the secrets of science followed by a fantasy involving wild abandoned sex, what’s not to like. Secrets of science? OMFG, have I become a nerd? Maybe so, but when I wake up Saturday morning I will be one happy and satisfied nerd. I glanced dreamily back at the calendar but all I saw were those beautiful hazel eyes filled with longing and promise. Friday it is!

Of course Friday couldn’t possibly have dragged on longer if it were fitted with friction bars. From the moment I woke up all the way through the day all I could think of was my dominatrix nurse. I made four errors on my lunch orders at the restaurant which is four more than usual, and my head just wasn’t in it at all. But the shift finally limped slowly to an end and I flew home to prepare for my journey. Nothing was on my mind. That is to say the everything sort of nothing. Oh yea, sex was on my mind as well. Maybe nothing but sex but I was very excited on so many levels. After the longest shower in history I did my best to look my best and it certainly wasn’t for nothing, at least I was hoping it wasn‘t.
When I arrived no one seemed as excited as I was, acting as if this were just another mundane visit. Maybe it was for them but I came here to be enlightened and turned on like never before. Dr. Kha led me back to my cot, my waiting room to experience nothing, and began inserting his medicated needles. “Hmmm, I feel much tension JT, I think I need put more puncture in foot today. Not want you running away, eh?” Kha chuckled as if it were some inside joke but I barely heard him at this point. He knew something was up, or rather that nothing was up, or was going to be up but lest‘s not go there. “Just really looking forward to what’s in store Dr. Kha, to pick up exactly where I left off the other day.” My smile must have been huge. “I see. Remember JT, every session new session. Like snowflake nothing ever exact.” I turned to look at him but he was already gone. I thought about a line from The Wizard of Oz and laughed, “My, people come and go so quickly here”, then I laid back to meditate while thinking of other Oz quotes. “Some people without brains do an awful lot of thinking, a heart is not judged by how much you love but by how much you are loved by others, you’re confusing courage with wisdom my friend.” I entered my zone, incense and music comforting me, a soothing sitar solo and I was transported again.
“Dr. Kha?” I pushed my way past the smoky curtain of dimensions. “Very clever JT, using Wizard of Oz. You think other dimension same as Oz for Dorothy? Maybe you same than Dorothy.” I could feel a strong burst of air pushing me back towards the smoke curtain and had to fight it off. “You gotta admit there are similarities Kha, I know I’m not in Kansas anymore.” The air kept me at bay. “True, no Kansas JT, but no Oz either. If you want learn about nothing you need to enter completely.” I fought off the air blast, “I can’t seem to get any further this air current is keeping me away.” Kha smiled, “No air current JT, is nothing. Nothing is what keep you from moving forward. If you want to understand everything you must first conquer nothing.” Conquer nothing? What the hell is he talking about? I concentrated hard and the wind stopped. I could see my nurse off in the distance, on the other side of a pond or something. She caught my eye and smiled. I looked back at her and then at Kha.
What you see is desire JT, but before you receive reward of what you desire lesson must be understood. You are in paradox JT, time and space much different than what you know. In this dimension Schrödinger’s cat exist and not exist” I shook my head full of doubt, “Are you saying we are in a box Kha?” He laughed loudly, “Box? No JT, here no box, but here always need think out of box. No use logic, use sensory instincts. Let feelings guide you.” I glanced back over the pond but no nurse. “So am I really here or am I still laying on the mattress?” Kha smiled, “I sorry JT, cannot answer. Anyway wrong question. What you should ask is when are you here and when are you on mattress. First to understand time you need let go of perception. You measure time in linear progressions, seconds, minutes, hours. But time constant and wobbly, no straight. You have already existed and already ceased to exist, time not wait on you. Your life is how you experience time, how you put it in order to understand. But time not linear JT, time flexible.” Kha pulled out a yard of string, “This your life JT. For you it have beginning and end. But time have no beginning, no end, time ownry exist. You see your life from one end of string to other. If I give you string in different pieces you think it useless, just like if I show you your life at 19, then at 5, then at 30. Not make sense because out of order yet it all happen. That ownry way you can see time, moving straight and forward every second. If you want see time as time truly is need more than acupuncture and meditation. For special people I give special transcendental medication. Combine acupuncture with special medication to help you understand. I believe you ready but it up to you JT.” He paused looking at me as if I needed time to consider, but he must have known if my life has already been that I was going to go for it. “Dr. Kha, I want to understand. It would be my honor and a privilege to undergo transcendental medication.” I gave him a sly smile, “When did I start?” I looked at him hoping he got my joke and saw he was smiling. “Very good JT, I see I have chosen you wisely. I leave now but I back to arrange session.” He pointed across the water to where my fantasy had been waiting, “Meantime, I recommend you take rowboat across pond.”
Right there in front of me was a small dinghy with oars. I jumped in and rowed like a maniacal teen about to lose his virginity towards whatever waited for me across the pond. When I got there the other side it was even more amazing than I thought possible. It was like an island paradise, brimming with plants, trees, and flowers of all colors. It smelled clean and new, lilac and fresh cut grass with a sense of serenity. I followed a path taking in the sheer beauty around me. Flowers with their genitals boldly hanging out on display for all to see, giving off intoxicating scents to tickle the minds of men. With every breath I felt desire building up inside me awaiting release. Then I saw her.
Not a nurse, not a dominatrix, not even an exotic island native woman, but that gorgeous hazel eyed enticing beautiful woman from my first visit dressed as if for a date “I’m so glad you chose to come back JT, I am Ambrosina. I’ve been waiting for you. Come here.”
To Be Continued

 

Mourning dew

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In the lonely shadows
When morning is still dark
Nature cries
Into blades of grass
Morning dew or Mourning dew
They’re still tears
Natures sorrows
Crying through the ground
Wafting upwards
From the graves of the gone
The tombs of the gallery
Soulless bodies
I know quite a few
Some from natures equalizer
Illness and disease
Some from natures randomness
It’s wheel of misfortune
Accidents
Murders
Wrong place, wrong time
Some from natures irony
Suicide
Self destruction
Drugs
To numb the pain of leaving the womb
Facing the cold cruel world
Yea, I know a few…..

 

In a therapeutic session I got the impression that depression was the cause of my dejection
No emergency that I could see but an urgency for my emerging need to escape reality
I got no prescription just a transcription of my transition so I got a subscription to scratch an itch and
Standard transmission for a bitchin’ ride with my magician whose mission was to alter my cognition
What I mean is I got high
Splattered my brain across the sky
I know its not the way
But it made depression fade away
So I did it everyday
Until I couldn’t get away
But misery loves to have company
So I took my best friend Bump with me
The product of such ridicule
Starting back in middle school where asshole kids can act so cruel
Where they forget the Golden Rule
Together we headed into obstruction
Strolling side by side toward our destruction
Seduced by sexy opium seduction
Believe me son
When poppy makes it’s Jones abduction its gonna suck son
You end up shit outta luck son
When it comes flying you better duck son because its the suction of deconstruction
One better know better
What I’m trying to say is I snuck out but he stayed stuck Mon
Sticking himself and tricking himself all the time he was inflicting himself
And addicting himself with the powdered ball and chain
Took away the pain
Faking out the rain
Telling everyone he was cool
Making us seem loke fools for making him look cruel
But he could win it
I turned my head for just one minute
Never realized how deep Bump was in it
He never made a sound
Though I totally related he was so goddam sedated he thought he was elated but to this date he remains underground
Thrilled with pills knowing speed kills but drugs were the only true solace he ever found above ground
I never heard his heart pound
Paid no attention to his pleas
Help me please
I turned away like he was a disease
No one listened
No one cared enough
They laughed it up and
No one helped
Not even me, his best friend
An onus I will carry until my end
The day I betrayed a friend
Now this may sound hypocritical and I don’t wanna get too analytical
But its oh so typical when people ridicule the individual
Waving ones own banner is almost Biblical
This may be cynical but I was his umbilical
Because no one else understood he was atypical
Another wandering child in a world apocalyptical
Just wanted to be who he was
But they laughed from a distance and broke his will
Pointed their fingers to get their fill
Pshhhtt, Y’all called him ill
Now who’s the hypocrite?
Now who’s counterfeit?
Wish I could reciprocate but here’s a promise much too late
His tears rise as my tears fall
When we meet in the early dampness of death
Walking barefoot in the grass
I step upon the mourning dew
I think of him the man I knew
The brother I loved despite your view
His days were far too few
And if one of you fuckers ever laugh at him again…..
I’ll walk your ass out in the mourning dew
That’s it…..I’m through

 

 

Overdose

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Not all wars are fought on battlefields but every war is real and deadly. This is in memory of a special friend, all others lost and those left to carry on. It should also serve as a warning to the young one out there that the lasting consequences far outweigh the temporary highs…..Peace

Trapped inside a life of ruin
Where I became a slave
The needle and the spoon
And the highs I always crave
I was already dead
Before the dope went to my veins
Easing pains with acid rains
All alone on the mainline
Far before my life’s prime
I OD’ed my body’s dead
Wish I’d chosen love instead
My lover cried baby come inside
But I hit the streets to find a high
She offered me a lovers charms
But it wasn’t her stuck in my arms
Now my dim lit room
Has become my tomb
Left this world too soon
Now I’m dead

But I died right at the start
First time I took the needle
Pointed it at my heart
I died a million times
Death by China white
Powder in my blood
Darkness in my nights
Cotton wad and spoon
The glow of flickering candlelight
Figured only way to cope
Was to cop a bag of dope
Skag instead of food
A crust of bread and such
Couldn’t get enough
Until I got too much
Now I’m dead
And I can’t go back
Overdose
A nice way of saying suicide

Lost Souls

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lost-soul

 

 

In memory of a special friend who saw the needle, and all those who survived the damage done. This is a POV piece written from the perspective of people I know and people I’ve known. Addiction is too often viewed as a habit acquired from weak willed people who are low life’s but few addicts set out to get strung out. There are many types of addictions but one of the meanest and hardest to break is heroin.
(In Stream Of Consciousness beat/street rhyme)
I sold my soul
In a dark back alley
Somewhere over there
The city of despair
Where running water
Remains constant
As the despondent
Hiding in dark corners
Amongst the unwanted
Individual and habitual
Cat and mouse ritual
Looking for release
From a world of strife
A way to erase
An unforgiving life
We just want peace
How I wish this shit would cease
Now everyday I need my fix
Started out just for kicks
Basement window transactions
3AM without distractions
We thought we were Kings of the night
But we were just kids on the run
Looking for fun until we got strung
And now we just can’t seem to get right
Enslaved to the world of dope
Trying to understand the dream
Of promise minus the hope
I was a glassine dope fiend hooked on powder self esteem
Popping tons of Benzedrine smoking and toking green weed
Ripping off a limousine hiding from the blue machine
Be quarantined and unredeemed if I don’t get my doped blood clean
Needed someone to intervene so please find that dopamine
Help me flee this fucking scene
Someone please
Save me from myself
I’m a ghost
A blank eyed phantom
Stagnant and abandoned
Searching for good times
Coping dimes
Scoring bundles
Committing crimes
Shootout in the jungle
It’s a asphalt rumble
This concrete struggle
Galleries full of users nodding
Where rigs boot blood
Poking and prodding
Trying to help me hide myself
Make me into someone else
For at least a few blissful hours

Dirty needles carbon spoon candle wax is melting soon
Arm tied off, red balloon mainline skag, shoot the moon
Milking blood in my harpoon hoping to remain immune
caught in a poppy typhoon getting sick but fixing soon
Someone better hear my tune before I drown in the black lagoon
Or am I doomed
How did I get here? Am I repulsive or simply compulsive?
It started recreational galloping the horse inspirational
Then authority became confrontational
Yet it seemed educational…. Sensational
Shooting the avenue recreational Lower Eastside invitational
Where drugs are inescapable and school was plain incapable
Of teaching even vocational or being motivational
Its reprehensible indefensible and dispensable
Yet there I was insensible
China White incomprehensible
It isn’t easy to break free
The entire culture had a hold on me
The vice no longer remains
Rid myself of the chains
Stopped the pains
Of hating the person I’d become
Desperate and always glum
What ever happened to
That boy in grade school
Who got along well with others
Loved by neighborhood mothers
Followed instruction
Why the destruction
Why the seduction
I was a well behaved child
What set me so wild?
Why was it me who survived
Why am I alive
But Randy took the dive
Why did he get the shot
That ripped through his veins
And stopped his heart
Life’s no fucking fair
Until you care
Live and Love in Peace

I Wanna New Drug ( From The Insidious Adventures Of JT Hilltop)

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new drug

 

J. T. Hilltop

The moment I saw the shit eating grin on Kens face I knew he had scored something special. My heart was racing even before any kind of chemical assistance would kick in. Will it be some opium streaked black hash? Some wheelchair gold weed or Thai stick?  Whatever it was I knew we were about to embark on an adventurous ride somewhere. “Yo, JT. Check this out Bro, my cousin Jerry just came from Brooklyn with this.”  Ken passed me a small tinfoil package, “Here man lets  do a line.”   I opened up the packet and noticed a familiar white powder, but it seemed almost wet. “What is it man, some super coke or something?”  Ken chuckled, “no no no man, this is fucking powdered THC, Jerry just calls it T. Its like all the good shit from weed all packed into this powder without smoking. You and me are gonna see just how powerful it is.”

Ken  used me as a barometer for his drugs because like him I have like a natural ability to metabolize drugs and  can normally handle at least a half a hit more than most kids. If someone did one hit of Blue Cheer we did two.  So if it freaks us out he dials it back or warns his customers how far to push it and if it doesn‘t get us jazzed he knows its weak shit. Carrie and I had been doing a lot of coke lately and frankly I wasn’t really digging it that much. I’d rather smoke a joint, eat a couple of ludes, and then just have sex or something. But everyone was chasing the coke high. This new T powder could be a welcome change, a new drug. I took the square piece of mirror from the table, poured out the powder, then went through the awesome ritual of chopping and forming two thick and two thin equal sized lines of the powder. Ken passed me a rolled up twenty dollar bill so I placed one end up my nose and bent over sniffing the first line like professional Dyson. Tilting my head back I dipped my fingers in my beer and dripped some into my nostrils forcing the residue further into my sinus cavity. It burnt a little bit and had a kind of chemical taste but it walloped me instantly at the back of my head turning it numb. I repeated the same processes on the second line passing the mirror to Ken. My nose hairs probably disappeared running away in flames but my brain would not be registering any pain. I felt it going right to the back of my cranium tickling my cerebellum.

It took about fifteen seconds for the inside of my head to explode. A mushroom cloud erupted in my brain  forcing my skull to grow like five inches to compensate for the euphoric growth. I imagined my forehead like a Cro-Magnon. Dead brain cells were being piled up in brain cell body bags by the endoplasmic reticulum synapse police as what was left of my sanity began triaging the remaining frazzled yet live cells. I got up to walk but my feet and legs had filled up with helium so I couldn‘t feel the ground. As I closed my eyes and tilted my head back I visualized walking, or rather floating in someone’s garden. The garden was beautiful full of running streams, fruit tees, and flowers. It seemed as though it should be familiar but I couldn’t ever remember being there before. None the less I wanted to walk through it until I noticed the paths were lined with what I  thought was cooked spaghetti. The pasta began slithering and hissing as it morphed into snakes. It felt like two people were watching me and I began chuckled thinking I must be in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve wondering who the fuck I was. I did however realize I was tripping and needed to master this new high so I focused as best I could.  I opted to try and negotiate a walk through the garden.  The helium continued to fill up in my legs. It was as though  I needed to be tethered like the balloons at a Macys parade or I may float away. I took a few steps forward without feeling my feet on the ground but going forward on complete faith that I still knew how to walk and the floor would happily meet my unfeeling feet. Everything looked distorted to the point of surrealism. Dimensions came and went or piggy backed on each other leading to total confusion. On top of that apparently some of the helium was escaping because as Ken spoke to me he sounded like Theodore or Alvin from the old Chipmunks cartoon. The world had morphed into slow motion, or maybe stop motion it was hard to discern.

A squeaky mouse voice whispered in my ear, “JT, I’m too fucking high man. I can’t fucking move.” Then the squeaker began laughing. I looked over at Ken and his mouth was laughing but his eyes were like fixed, open but staring into nothingness and registering no emotion. He was seated in a multi colored cushioned rocking chair that was hovering a foot above the floor. Except for his laughing mouth he looked like he was frozen solid. Somehow I made my way over to him, “Are you okay Bro?” I think I was swaying, like a weeble that wobbles but doesn’t fall down but I can’t say for sure. Ken stopped laughing, “I think I’m a wax statue.” For  two seconds that seemed like sixty we both thought about what he said and broke out laughing. I laughed so hard I had to sit down, if only I could figure out where a chair was. It took us somewhere in the vicinity of forty five minutes to regain our composure. Or maybe it was two days, that was how high we were.

Once I was able to maintain a lucid thought I realized all the hallucinating I had been doing. Ken was back in that green recliner, I had legs, and I had visited the Garden Of Eden. Best hallucinations ever, we found a new drug and it was beyond groovy. But this shit was definitely way strong so it had to be cut with some mannitol. I knew instantly our entire town would put the cocaine on hold and get into this new THC.
TBC

Epilogue.        T became the new drug of choice, it was like being more stoned than you had ever been before without falling asleep.  After about six to eight  months reports of kids being hospitalized after using powdered THC and becoming paralyzed, like frozen. It seemed someone had adulterated the chemical by adding something far more dangerous and it quickly fell out of fashion. Much to my dismay cocaine once again became to drug of choice at bars. I didn’t dig coke too much because you only got one good rush from coke on the first hit then spent the rest of the night trying to relive it until your mouth hurt from grinding your teeth. Not to mention the paranoia it caused. None of that however deterred me from putting as much of it up my nose as I could afford. We invented snake lines which were the longest white powdered lines possible but it still had people going crazy looking for more. I continued snorting even though I didn’t particularly care for coke because it was still a drug and the rush of doing illegal shit was addictive. The shrinks later on would tell me I suffered from an addictive personality disorder but I still think like most kids I was just always looking for kicks, I just had a bigger sweet tooth for the forbidden than most.  Either way my mantra back then was most definitely  “I wanna a new drug.”

Perceptions of a Desert trip

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jim

 

Homage to Alan Ginsberg, poet laureate for the pioneers of meaningful enlightenment and Jim Morrison, The Lizard King. May they both forever Rock In Peace.)

 

 

A Yaqui medicine man by the sands of an arid graveyard treated Jim and friends for underdeveloped perception. He opened his bag of dreams and together they traveled through the eaves of perceptions in search of meaning. Like any mind bending trip created in the dark it’s truth would soon come to light…….

 

 

 

The desert horizon smiled broad at suns close

Atomic tangerine beams bouncing in chaos

Sanguine dreams scratched sensory trails

Across the hot steamy orange hazed sky

A mural of living poisons formed in a cloud

Painted by the brush of the cannabis queen

From a palette of peyote and mescaline hues

Hallucination dust was rising up in Mr. Mojo

Speeding shadows dash across the desert floor

Like amphetamine eating arachnids and….

 

Oh my God the cacti, the fucking cacti

Spiked emerald armies of angiosperms

Arms raised in communion with the Agave God

Stand in glory waiting the mushroom lords command

The shiny green skin oozed psilocybin fungus

Instant Zen

An obscured coyote pants curiously at Lizard King

Who slithers cautiously across the sun burnt sand

Mr. Mojo alight in a psychedelic rain of prisms

The coyote retreat to its den

Time for some more hashish

In agreement the with Lupine Prince they go

Another hit of acid will do the trick for us all

The seller of wares appears in a green convertible

Tambourine vials of moods happy and numb

I have songs I play so you can hear the vision

Notes to make your fantasies dance

But here in the once ocean floor palace

Some apparitions and a mirage I think

Lysergic Acid Diethylamide mixed with THC

The moodman put them On The Road with Dean

Cowboy Neal at the wheel of the bus

Kerouakesque travels along surreal highways

More hallucinogenic dust

 

An unscheduled stop for a roadside attraction

Chemical larvae hitching along Rt 66

Looking for the map to the doors of perception

The Lizard Monarch offered a sugar cube caterpillar

Whose cocoon blossomed into a strange but beautiful creature

The sun knelt and prayed then bid then adieu

An experience of great spiritual importance

Outside the lair of the coyote Mojo bows in homage

Gave blessing to the terra statue of Buddha in drag

The Lizard King salivates licking his eye

His vision blurred but never clearly obscured

And They all saw things they’d never saw before

The moment they stepped over the border

Past the chaos and disorder

 

 

 

 

Before I sink

Into the

Big sleep

I want to hear

I want to hear

The SCREAM

Of the butterfly

When the music’s over, turn out the light-J.M.-

 

 

 

Powdered therapy

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powder

 

Blankly she gazed my way

Eyes two hundred years old

Ancient and weathered

Hollow but hopeful

Just one more shot

We’ll kick tomorrow

This time we promised

Again

But we knew the truth

Because every day we wake up

Its just the same as every yesterday

A purposeless life stuck on repeat

Walking in endless circles

We know exactly what we will do

Even sex has become mundane

Stuck in our own tracks

 

 

A numbing life of monotony

Overloaded with mediocrity

Every fucking day seems the same to me

The two of us in powder therapy

And we just sit back and let it all be

Wondering aloud when we gonna OD

 

 

Still we hide behind our solution

Our addiction merely our masks

To escape detection from the world

So all the hurt each day possesses

Can remain locked away until dark

Until the latch of aguish comes undone

Again

The familiar routine comes around

But the hurt never stays forever

It fades and disappears in therapy

Frantically we seek our appointment

Whatever it takes to get through

Spears poised to  pierce our skin

Fill our veins with delirium soaked blood

Leaving evidence of their constant visits

Deeply etched in little red lines we hide

Soul tattoos that we wear on our arms

The tracks of our tears

 

 

A numbing life of monotony

Overloaded with mediocrity

Every fucking day seems the same to me

The two of us high on powder therapy

And we just sit back and let it all be

Wondering aloud

Who’ll be the first to OD

 

In a dingy room sit’s a candle flickering discreet

Two lonely lives stagnate between flesh and dust

A spoonful of sugar helps the pony downtown

To be buried side by side with our long lost lust

 

Wrapped in each others arms we nod through the night

And promise that tomorrow we’ll get ourselves right

Again

 

 

The roadmap to addition is full of pathways and routes but how and why one got there matters not to anyone who’s addicted. Sometimes its just for kix but far more often its for therapy. Therapy through drugs first blocks the physical pain sensors but you soon learn it also blocks the emotional pain sensors. Self hatred, guilt, emotional emptiness are a few fast highway lanes to addition because this therapy makes all those pains disappear. Perhaps only for a few hours but sometimes even a few hours of relief can seem like a life-line.Just about everyone knows of someone who has died from addiction. Addicts can be very convincing, even to themselves. Don’t enable and don’t give up on them. If someone you care about heads down that road you need to be strong, stronger than you think possible. Love, compassion and consistency are what they may need most.

Live and Love in Peace