I know i should’nt.

Every time i get stoned, i feel like I”m with Richard

I’m drinking a Mexican beer with Bukowski while listing to classical

in between chapters of a Hemingway

this is a world only some get

this is a poem that only writers understand

impress me though, keep on reading

What this world needs is an enema

and it’s happening in the forms of war

we will wake on a new horizon

only to sleep forever

in your last dream

what will your eternity be?

It makes me nervous as well

i nearly split my beer over

only losing a few drops

it could easily be mistaken for


It smells of watermelons in my room

and it’s encapsulating

the cerveceria has spilled more than i thought

Luckily i have a towel handy

Do you?

One never knows when one needs a towel

Adam could have used one

instead of a fig leaf

I dig all the pipe dreams

till they are dug

and i have gone

as far as plausible

until I am the bull

in the ring

versus the matador

and it’s me or him

between the sun

and the wind

the dirt

and the crowd and there chorus

behind the fear

and misunderstanding

They are cheering

No, now they are booing

What am I doing?

Well, whatever it is

I don’t plan on losing.

~ by Aumbeche Rishi on February 5, 2007.

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