Tempting the Dark Psychedelic
Ryan Paich
Tempting the Dark Psychedelic
Published by Ryan Paich
Copyright 2016 Ryan Paich
Special thanks to Chase, Jeremy, Aaron, Sarah, Dan, and Gary for their participation!
Updated ebook cover art by Nick McDaniel.
Table of Contents:
1) City of God: Speech, Angels & (thoughts)
2) Giants
3) The Apology
4) Nightwords (hers & his)
5) Gravity (by Ryan & Chase)
6) Smoking Duel (by Ryan & Jeremy)
7) Leaver 5
8) Real or Dream
9) Slam 2 (cross)
10) Slam 1
11) Slam Vows
12) Shout
13) Gravity 2 (by Aaron & Ryan)
14) (when) Khaos Turns
15) Slam 3 (mania flares)
16) Anti-Gravity (by Sarah & Ryan)
17) Amidst the Fall
18) Demon Spotting (by Chase & Ryan)
19) Leaver 6
20) Eyes
21) Slam 4: Hybrid (Rabbit Hole)
22) Moves
23) Tribute to “Arena” (memories)
24) My Angel Has
City of God:
Speech, Angels & (thoughts)
Certain memories
are uncomfortable like
the man in the psych ward
who claimed to be a demon crusher.
(What did he do to me?)
Like an entire conversation
that never happened...
...and a fantasy
that got the upper hand.
Focus, you, bright dreamer,
don’t you remember?
The murmuring canals that night as you ran, desperately -
the city a beautiful blur of excitement.
Yes... I remember.
Holy is the wrong word
to describe the feeling of it...
The madness surrendered as
(seeking a lost love)
my friends finally understood
and forgave me,
silently urging me forward through the mysterious,
new place;
the knowing eyes of the angels
looked on in anticipation yet still,
I dared to hope
for more than a memory.
Giants
Looking across the stunning depths
I endure an agonizing lure,
and I won’t resist
the relief of a soothing word.
What was I called again?
Ah, yes...
An offbeat prophet or
a modern shaman -
though I prefer the name Giant.
How could anyone know?
I am
a dancing shadow -
the nights’ quiet effect;
a tall figure of the shifting dark.
Remembering this,
I settle my thoughts
fully prepared to speak
a gentle word.
The Apology
I know the most about you -
like how you once felt
the blessed collision of worlds
skimming your fingertips.
...and how the years passing between us now
are a small comfort
after what I did.
I am so sorry.
I am your apocalypse,
the highest attempt to
make you give up.
Nightwords (hers & his)
I whisper harshly in the night
asking you to quit this fixation,
this path...
...I know you won’t.
As time drifts dreamily by without you,
heaven shatters my delusions
of seeing you again,
but the love...
The love rises -
still a lively flicker;
a bright presence flowing through my every action;
an invincible intent.
I whisper because
even at this unknown distance
in years or miles
I feel you.
Your nightwords,
familiar and haunting,
incite a fatal surge of affection;
a feeling I cannot alter...
I know you hear me.
And I will not know
if you hear me shouting back.
Gravity (by Ryan & Chase)
I sit slouched at the table,
alert and contemplative,
after a third cup of coffee.
I see
his figure
walk through the door
with a confidence I thought he lost.
My hand shakes as
the pull between us,
the gravity,
sweeps the room.
Conversations halt as people stare
for reasons they cannot say.
I quiet my mind, remembering:
No intimate conversation
comes without invitation.
No force -
no intimidation.
Gravity is not a force...
It is an essence -
a presence.
Smoking Duel (by Ryan & Jeremy)
Instinctively lighting a cigarette,
I must, because
I recognize a familiar courage -
one that destroys
before taking root.
What you reveal
builds me into a weapon.
I see you now
at your worst and
the image is perfect
in its desperate beauty.
The dark thoughts
resting behind those gloomy eyes
are yours alone -
I cannot see them.
Just like the people
surrounding you in life...
They mustn’t know.
You are one
I will remember
forever...
-----
Another greedy drag from a cigarette
to catch my nerve -
my breath.
Your cold eyes embrace me;
mine refuse to bow.
I am not fooled.
Your dancing thoughts betray you,
tripping the light fantastic.
Entwined lovers, yours and mine
I hold you close yet still hate
your mocking guise.
I know not who you are,
but what:
Something I cannot define.
Nature I cannot defy.
Leaver 5
“I know all about you
and that brilliant, unstable love you hold at bay...”
Falling away I won’t accept
the time we spent together
as enough;
I will do my best to be
the man you would want
if we still knew each other.
Murmuring quietly beneath my breath
my half-prayers build momentum -
habitually
trance-like
I whisper, “...anybody else but a fool...”
And the words spring upward, heaven bound,
much louder than I intend.
That’s when I understand.
The depth of the want
is a manic kiss;
your lightest touch -
a different view of things...
I catch myself a moment later,
feeling the memory;
I know you won’t.
Real or Dream
Tonight, I’m unconvinced the world is still there.
The dream...
It seems permanent this time…
/> (Dance-like drums
thrum faintly in the distance)
The night air is intoxicating and familiar
just like the view from this bell tower,
where I sit,
alone,
waiting.
(Couples walk together around the well-lit lake;
crowds of people below buzz with conversation.)
Focused, eyes closed,
my senses stretch outward,
searching for her,
my lost love.
I find her beneath a distant tree,
the brightest smile on her face.
The urge to leap from my perch, but
no.
(the crash would scare her away)
Instead, speaking gently:
Dear girl,
I will remember you,
but I will embrace
what the dream suggests.
You are not the one.
The wisdom of a true friend:
real love is easy, not obsessive;
balanced, not mad.
I love you wildly,
tempting the dark psychedelic -
…I remember dead rats inside the bottom dresser drawer, bursting with sin absorbed…
…the horrified looks as
they discovered eight wishes scribbled on the bathroom wall,
blessed by insane hands.
…So this distance I will keep,
ashamed of any outcome less than perfect.
Rising to my feet, I break the connection -
now certain it won’t be long
before the dream collapses around me.
Slam 2 (cross)
The method becomes
blank-title-blank-go
as the scratches begin to fight the pages
for their chosen existence.
And should you let the verse survive,
there’s still another step left before you speak
the WORD.
Landing with a CRASH:
the forceful air gusts downward
in your wake
reminding you how
the impact a poet makes
is better left unnoticed.
Don’t worry,
the chaos will pass...
Once a delusion kicks in so hard
that you begin to hate the ones you love -
Once you see intentions leaping around
like nimble ghosts inside someone’s personal thoughts -
Once you see the divine reveal itself
in whatever way
you are supposed to know -
that’s when you are ready...
Rising to the APPLAUSE:
an unseen audience becomes
ecstatic now because
they did not believe for a moment
you might survive the fall.
Don’t worry,
the love you felt
cannot fade because
it’s built into your condition and
is your greatest strength next to the DYNAMIC FAITH
you carry now that the MUSE you chase is only
FRAGMENTED MEMORIES…
...The only option is obedience,
a silent direction,
keeping certain good advice hidden since
TRUTH is well known for driving poets MAD.
But remember -
these are just the thoughts of a man
scratching wildly into his notebook.
Slam 1
I’m sorry,
but I don’t want to be a poet.
That’s not my intention.
I don’t want to upset or inspire anyone.
I would be invisible if I could,
permanently erased from view.
Sometimes poets are like that...
We write because we have to,
not just because we want to.
It is uncomfortable being disrupted by ideas -
fragments that beg to be thrown onto a page.
In writing, choices are infinite,
and everyone generates creative thoughts;
too often we fail to capture them.
Neglect has stifled man’s brilliance;
has silenced the masses with apathy,
has enabled us into convenience and comfort.
We are super-connected, but we do not share.
Technology that should fuel genius
has left us flat.
Our ability has made us lazy.
Our talent, arrogant and close minded.
We talk too much and do too little.
More than technology we need creativity.
More than talent we need understanding and grace.
Without these qualities, we are all trapped inside our own mundane prisons.
Yet ideas will keep screaming at us to create!
Sometimes dangerous thoughts -
words that can devour us,
tempt us,
crash us into manic chaos!
