The Peyote Syndrome

Take peyote
and cut the flower into 3.
Watch it bleed out zeros & ones.
A mirror appears in front of you –
look at your reflection
you’re dripping codes;
the sand-waves chuckle.

Kirby suddenly
awakens the Ted Bundy marathon.
The Fred Syndrome
opens the flood doors
of the exploding cookie.

Techne poetry
swirls like an old western light-saber.
Who’s beside the towering pledge?
Inspiration hums
it seeks kings to betray the city of pus.
Laceration flinches before the arrival whore.

Eat a piece of mushroom
Do you feel like Mario?
Connected to Pandora’s Box?
Timothy Leary god of the virtual,
Icons slipping
legacy fleshed out.

The dead ventriloquist
covered in glazed caramel.
Enough with the unbecoming sugar fuzz –
loud sober nurses
drilling both their eyes for social awareness.
Tickle the sun, let it sneeze.

Post-mortem sequenced,
clip it on the wall.
Decades secure
a sleep cataplexy.
home of Satan gluttony,

Here…take a drop
of yellow sunshine,
exterminate your guilt-trip.
Lick the decay creamy tornado.

A jubilant tragedy
the center of your tongue abscess,
Annihilation retires
the libretto behind your thorax trembles.

Liquid fatigue smiles,
Aquarius rising –
Do planets ejaculate?
A god turning into marijuana,

Activate Christ zombie
Bibles program you –
UN-blindfold yourselves from the confines of slavery.

I got a secret that will change everything.
Do you want to hear it?

Never world me dead…



Copyright © Charlie Zero

All rights Reserved.

No part of The Peyote Syndrome – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

12 thoughts on “The Peyote Syndrome

  1. It’s almost like we think in tangent. Love The Ted Bundy Syndrome!! You pluck some seriously iconic sentences that stay with you much like Bukowski or Billy Childish. Excellent! Xx

    1. Ah! Bukowski is brilliant. You know what? I’ve never heard or read Billy Childish. I will check out his work and do some research on him.

      Thank you for reading. I was on a roll or tapping into different worlds of the imagination.

      You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.

      ~Robin Williams

  2. There is a movie called ALTERED STATES, with William Hurt, from 1980, & if you have not seen it, it is a must see after this poem. For whatever reason, there is less Flarf & more cohesion within this piece, that borders on metaphor. I have never taken hallucinogenics, but my imagination, my poetry has transported me to undiscovered countries & altered states of mind. I dig the way your mind ramps up & explodes so many directions at the same instant. I like your many lines /inspiration hums/it seeks kings to betray the city of pus/ &/ lick the cheesy creamy tornado/ & /the dead ventriloquist/covered in glazed caramel/. Lots of food porn within.

    1. I have not heard or seen the movie. However, I will make it my mission to watch it
      and add this to my list of movies.
      It’s definitely a big turn and a shift of what I wanted to express and take one’s mind
      on a far journey beyond the great odyssey.

      I was natural tripping when I was writing this piece.

  3. Do planets ejaculate? Is that why it is called hte milky way? Is that really planetery sperm spinning around a central axe-ass? Oh my, me thinks you might have sampled a bit of your poetry, ha. Magic mushroom, magic mushroom. Bleeding binary, we are but virtual constructs, so why not? Ah you rsecret has my mind running.

      1. I hear you man. And sorry if I inferred too much. You Dec have the surrealist going and a wicked flow to your imagery.

        My pleasure to read

  4. I can’t wait to read your next piece. This is superb.

    Love this, slightly reworked: “to betray the city of pus, laceration flinches before the arrival whore.”

    And this: “The dead ventriloquist
    covered in glazed caramel.”

    More faves:

    “Tickle the sun, let it sneeze.
    Post-mortem sequenced,
    clip it on the wall.
    Decades secure
    a sleep cataplexy.”

    “the center of your tongue abscess,
    Annihilation retires
    the libretto behind your thorax trembles”

    “Never world me dead…” Or even, “never-world me dead.” I should like to be never-worlded until I at least feel dead.

    Thank you for coming to fetch me to read this.

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