LPiA-25 Nov. 5

[Tiger the Lion]

Let's Pretend it's April - Nov. 5
Rules: Write a poem for LPiA on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a New Reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month, have written 30 poems for the month of November. (or one, or six, or fifteen) Prompts may be revisited at any time. All members are welcome.

Topic : Write a poem inspired by Sex and Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll
Form : Any
Line requirements: 8 or more

Feel free to reply with comments or kudos as you wish. 

Questions?

[Todd]

The Moon Is the Moon

She would recline
in a lawn chair, turn on
the sprinklers, drop acid
and listen to Dark Side of the Moon.

She said she could feel
the pulse of the universe.

Another friend said it made him
into a glass of orange juice,
moving slowly so he wouldn’t spill.

I went with them to Division Bell,
saw the pigs, passed the pipes.
When they sang Wish You Were Here,
I didn’t wish anything.

I watched them.
The moon stayed silent.

[Weeded]

Before Lynyrd

A young boy woke up one day
after years of callousing
and started to feel his world
like a paradigm shift; magnetic acceleration.

No, there wasn't a plateau to wander
only a great scalable summit
and the heaven's star
until the frequencies shimmer
and the needle finally pierces.

[CRNDLSM]

What is a band, a band is
a circle, a connection
through a central cause. Man is
constantly seeking union.
Union with their brothers, with
nature and with the divine,
counting on each other with
their lives on the line

[busker]

I woke to her hand laying
gently on me
at four AM, Sun King.mp3
on my Pentium PC playing.

Was it yesterday? Last week?
The diligent Greek
mistook it for a beast
that eats you. Not knowing
that the manticore
is just time that is going.

This morning, it feels
like it happened the night before.

So sad, so sweet,
the days that are no more.*


*https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45384/the-princess-tears-idle-tears

[Keith]

A blockheads lament


A chord on the bend
has got to be here
the voice in my head
can sound very clear
The pill on my tongue
makes me feel weird
the note up my nose
gets dust on my beard

I guess Ill run out of time
but ill give it a try
I lay it all on the line
as you keep watching me cry
Ill bring it back with the booze
like we got nothing to loose

So take me home in your car
and let me play my guitar
I hit the ground like a fool
I'm just so fuckin cool
sweat stains under arms
cheek bones without charm
just another bit lip
Tight trousers unzipped.

I guess Ill run out of time
but ill give it a try
I lay it all on the line
as you keep making me cry
Ill bring it back with the booze
like we got nothing to loose

A foot on the step
leaps out without fear
the wind on my face
gets suddenly clear
I hit the ground like a star
always take it too far
I play it back on the tune
but im still in the room

I guess Ill run out of time
but ill give it a try
I lay it all on the line
as you keep watching me cry
Ill bring it back with the booze
like we got nothing to loose

[dukealien]

These Three


What did they do,
I want to know,
before they had
the benefits
of sex, drugs, and
rock-and-roll?

For drugs they had
fermented stuff
and drugs the witch-doctor
made from plants
burnt or ground up and blown
up your nose.

For rock-and-roll
they beat on things
and sang and danced
as their parents
taught them many
winters back.

As for sex, they seem
to have managed
without institutionalizing
or otherwise protecting
those little confusions
that mindfully beset us.

Was it better? Don’t be daft.
They died like mayflies
just as we’ll seem
to have done, next century,
as they still drum, drink,
and make the beast.

[rowens]

Cock Alternative

Truly, blues is comedy in the form of tragedy,
electric suburbs and xylophone rural south.

The women wanted depth, and we gave
them noise. "What are we to do with that?"

This is the very sound of the male orgasm,
the way he is when he has his way,

women of all ages, sober as daughters and mothers
as long as our mess is our own.

This is when my love was truest,
when it felt like the real thing.

[RiverNotch]

Rock and roll is criminal
only because it's young.
Without sex, you won't have us,
you won't have drinkers of wine and smokers of pot
drinking and smoking since before the vine
and shrub were grown with intent, whereas this music
is an amalgam of two genres
almost as young, two modes of feeling the beat
or humming a tune distinguished
either to soothe the beggars
among the white exploiters
or to keep low the black exploited.
Rock and roll is criminal
only because it's mixed,
it's a couple of blokes from Liverpool
playing Chuck Berry or Little Richard,
some lads in their twenties seducing high schoolers
or wonen flashing their tits like cocks,
whereas with sex the oneness brewed
is natural, even pure,
like espresso served at nine o'clock
alongside a shot of grappa.

[MidaPoems]

Where heaven dissolves

Worldview disintegrating.
A pill, a tab, a liquid -
Bottled heaven,
For as long as it lasts.

The codependency 
Urges my return.
The color spectrum shifts
When these help me to see.

Others see deterioration
In my bones,
Whilst I stay here,
To slowly disappear.

Without thoughts -
Disorganized.
Agony in my veins.

It's too late now
To realize
It drove me insane.