Hallucinating poems bring the best collection of short and long hallucinating poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great hallucinating rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these hallucinating poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on hallucinating are here for you.
Well there’s a chimpanzee playing in my flower bed, there’s a ghost in my attic raising mortal hell, I must be going crazy ‘cuz I haven’t even taken any pills and this can’t be real, I tell myself you know
Each caress of sea breeze in my eyes brings gentle rhythm of foam rippling up the beach. Grasshopper-green seaweeds, crystal-white pebbles shine brightly near my toe-nails. They mirror dreamy eyes, welcoming the micro-sparkles in each foamy row of bubbles. But
(1) On the road from Jerusalem, while echoes of the horn are still tearing down the walls of Jericho, I recline on a table of sand. Sparrows cry joyfully to me, in a space void of wedding ceremonies, picking up
Incredible moon tips the hallucinating tree. Lake propels the waves to limbs and strips to bank. I wear my lightning and enter into a process outside body. The night betrays and goes back to sun. There is a frame of
View of the mountains,sipping coffee early in the morning, This morning I am glad to have your company. Lately people look at me in daze and ask me to stop hallucinating, But I don’t remember being without you,not even inn
school life just like in a child’s dream like a bird to be taught to fly and live primary classes to higher classes step by step I learnt to live and understand life better than ever Terrific weightage of books
Night after night, with the stillness of death, dreams flashing on the screen of the mind, rasping breath going of like minute bombs thru’ the constant o of the mouth, groping hands giving off carbonic fumes, sculpturing odoriferous forms, abstract
Revelations from your cherished words, Echoes in my inner mind like love birds Enlightening those songs, you sung Engraved within my mind forever. After years and fears of destiny I ran into the chambers of darkness; Setting off in grief, seeking
“There’s magic in the Coolroe-stream, or pucks weave herb into the browse to make me dream… In Killorglin town I bowed before a virgin-queen, who gave a crown to make me king with vision over everything. Our match remained unconsumate.
I am watching flock of birds flying, gradually start disappearing. It makes me feel small and incapable. It’s not about the flying ability, it’s about the freedom. I tied with bondings, which makes me vulnerable. If change is the way
We are born into an unknown world. Slowly we learn as we go. Taught by those who came before. Who in turn we’re taught By those who came before. Generation after generation passing knowledge forward. Knowledge differed region by region.
You’re my sweet endearing child Fragile and lovely to stare at You gave me a reason to live Smiles and hopes were brought in to me. Every day is a new enjoyable chapter Looking forward to be the best father
When you think about losing someone You know it will hurt You expect to hurt Like you’ve never hurt before But even though you prepare yourself Once you lose someone you love The shock will knock you off your feet
Walking bare footed on the turf of past With an unusual nonchalance for the changing season, Spring’s music echoed and died away so fast, But no songs or laments did reach this garden. Sweet fragrance of ripe fruits went unnoticed
profiling the divine phallus on terraced shrouds of fault the dilemma of arcane notation starts for that succultent rumours, emotively torn asunder, a green room becomes epiphanic, the voice was gone with black sun; buried onto neck in the drenched
Today, like everyday You forgot to smile at the mirror The house waved and waved You probably didn’t notice! Buses and cars and people and dogs The sun was scanning them all Realization. Oh! I forgot my handkerchief You missed
Last year vanished New year ushered while Sun continue to shine Moon as usual on and off seen Shivering Cold continue hide and seek Sweating Hot continue to rise Expectantly unpredictable rain Prices continue to rise to the skies Un
All that remained was the Wall after the war poking its head through the rubble. While the remnant scoured for meaning a child made its way to the Wall where the guns shot to death, her very own. She stared,
The endless miles apart Cannot still their beating hearts The power of their love Carried on the wings of a dove Their smiles when together Tell a story of their own Carefree and contented Together they have grown The toils
Sanmati, my angel, has decorated jawline. Aside puts cold anger and does repine Negative things in her life, but always supine Merry things about the wide world divine. Against me or her things she despise saline. Tough tenderness she got
The small woman from the attic sits cross-legged with her pink plastic hair rollers for hours. Her life spins like the spool of thread on the sewing machine. She sleeps wearing a flowery morning gown in the room with a
This market is full of gimmickries, They can attract you till you feel your heartbeats, You can splurge whole your heart out, Like cash, card, love, greed, Your sentiments too, In whatever shapes and forms, But, your hunger is never
Have you seen a dream crumble, I just did Not one sound it made, nor a mercy bid Silently and softly it shed its tears Finally unbounded from all its fears Some piercing pain I felt Something perishing and foul
That smell brought memories that were long suppressed and locked away in the empty space where once her soul rested. The muted vacuum burst into a dark nothingness. He had forced himself into her the last time their gaze met.
Turn the corner and you will find, some dark figures huddled together under the rains of words. In a fractured embrace. One chunk of floating pain falls on you. The assassin had come quietly. A song was knifed today. Turn
They didn’t fear the violence in the sky Rare in Seattle, a dark parade of corybantic Beasts where there’s often a light grey Ceiling. It came on in a pinwheel, blotting Every point on the rose in its turn before
The snow fell quietly on the little hill with the softness of swan feathers, blanketing the ground around the tiny log cabin. Wispy drifts cascaded down the roof and gathered around the windowsills as if to cradle the tiny abode
Hope’s the life’s driving force, without it,you will just feel remorse. Do not be abject,live life to the fullest, and that what makes you better from the rest. If life’s the heart,then hope is its best, because it is the
In caves of Arabian Desert Lived uncouth people, I assert, One thousand years ago, in seclusion, Within their savage legion. One wondered at the sandy hills Encompassed by vigorous rills, But friendly to those men were they; They loved to