There’s a kaleidoscopic spectrum
Composed of every psychedelic hue
And whenever I’m faced by this spectre so rum
Then I think of you, and Scooby doo
Beyond this fleeting phantasmagoria
Lies the garden of Adam and Eve
Wherein you’ll find that perfect euphoria
Something you’d have to feel to believe
The subtle gyrations of the cogs that belong
To my father’s old grandfather clocks
Will generate nothing but apathy so strong
So unwind, my friend, and take off your socks
And let the ghosts of your past slide
In the evanescent traces of memories in smoke
Respite, and in yourself confide
It’s been so long since your heart last broke
Pink electrons suspended in ether above
Hypnotically serenading your senses
Until every shoe fits like a glove
And you have destroyed all your defenses
Pity the ones who scowl on your addiction
To these neurotoxins of nature
They’ll forever suffer in time’s friction
To hell with their law and legislature
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- suraj sharma
- my mind, therefore, becomes this outstretched field of immeasurable serenity, which, although illuminated at angles awkward and unfamiliar to my eyes - is neither dark nor twilit. The strange lighting turns the vacuous foreplay of shadows chasing shadows into an euphoric, almost utopian feeling which is held in suspension as long as this configuration of appearances beckons the restlessness of reason ever forward into the uncharted hinterlands of imagination while at the same time compelling me to bless the lighting director.
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