Magic Carpet Ride
Whirling and dancing; it was a magic
carpet ride. Mounting to the sun, the
carpet twists and turns. Free!
The carpet does its crazy dance,
blazing across the sky. The exhilaration
ricochets through the body. Urging the
carpet higher, wanting to be kissed by
the Gods.
Plummeting down down down; it’s a
roller coaster ride. There is no control.
The Earth comes looming up; a crash
is moments away. Gone is the extreme
exhilaration; fear takes its place. The
carpet laughs and soars to the sky.
Damn, that hash is good stuff.
Shrooms
The gate is crooked, but I don’t care.
Drifting and floating;
a surreal world dances in my head,
Picasso art.
Reason flees
warmth stabs deep
ugly worlds steal away.
My mind is a placid lake.
Gin
A weeping moon struggles across a
blazing sky; dropping tears on giant
bedbugs. Torrents of purple water crash
down a black arroyo. A ball of snakes
vie to see who can blow the biggest
bubble. Peanuts look like Limburger
cheese, and the mongoose says they
tastes like marshmallows. Mount Teton
is upside down standing on its point.
A flock of cockatoo’s crash to the ground;
their wings have turned to dust. Snow
burns brightly revealing surly faces. A
hideous monster smiles from the swamp.
It is singing, “He’s a Jolly good fellow.”
An ancient Aztec warrior guards the
secret place where the west wind
sleeps at night.
Damn, this gin bottle is empty again.
—-
Mike Berger is an MFA, PhD. He is retired and writes poetry and short stories full time. He has been writing poetry for less than two years. His work has appeared in seventy-one journals. He has published two books of short stories and seven poetry chapbooks. He is a member of The Academy of American Poets.
