I’m strung out on ganja and tramadol, sitting up in bed writing at turtle speed.
Turtles eat guppies, tiny breeder fish, prolific breeders, replenishing the sea. Turtles live and breed slowly like they walk, they are the Zen masters of the sea.
A bird shit on my face yesterday. Thais believe it's good luck. But don't touch a Thai's head, it's the highest part of their body. Your Feet are the lowest, nobody points with their feet in Thailand.
In Siam daughters and sons, wash, then kiss their mothers' feet on Mother's Day, stuff Jesus or Gandhi would do.
Siam is an elegant word, tasty even. In Bangkok, there's a restaurant, Four Hands, good-looking and sociable, feeding you Chinese food by the handful, always laughing, and available.
For Christians, Jesus is cosmic consciousness, he's by your side, he'll reach out to people on the radio generating airwaves, radiating hope, and love.
I miss pain shots, nurses armed with morphine, derivative Pr—heroin, or buprenorphine, the magic carpet ride.
Modern medicine doesn't stand up to Martian healing. Martians can heal cancer and diabetes.
Bless the rousing of your mind and dreams, flying with sleepy angels at a balmy altitude.
I'm still waiting for the day; Angels, Martians, and Anthropoids light up flying at the speed of light.
Fly me to the Moon.
Martian, Anthropoids, Angels, Beduin tents pitched in the forest, restaurants in tents serving sizzling fungi, purple beans, insects, sipping Martian vodka, eating edibles, floating on the ceiling, Martian girls are sex symbols, they're the best cock suckers in the Universe,
Saucer trips to Mars are a breeze, you're doped up the whole time, it's pleasant and safe inside, flying at the speed of light or faster,
Mars is flat, Martians live underground, it's the largest tunnel system in the Universe, it rains in the tunnel, they're are islands, and modern cities, things are provided, meals, silky oil massages, The Oasis Festival on Bourbon Street, nightclubs, bars, entertainers, Stevy Wonder, 50 cents, and Willy Nelson.
Martian and Anthropoid feel each other out , Martians are master harp and theremin players, so they jam with the Stars, playing live on Earth Radio, spewing waves of melody to listeners who are rocked to sleep.
Mar's has an abundance of underground rivers, emerald color water, miracle water; always on the Martian menu, they live for 1000s of years.
On Mars Antrohpoids and Martians live in mountain t0p castles, or in oases with decked out Beduin tents.
Nobody fucks with Martians, it's their show, they want people to enjoy themselves and live forever happy and free. Martian food is served at festivals, boiled ants, beans, potatoes, and blue beans, vitamin-rich food cultivated in glass dooms.
There's no electricity or oil on Mars, they generate power diby stilling heavy water through tubo-processors in reverse.
Martians don't wear clothes, they transport themselves from place to place, whisking like Casper the Ghost, moving like Fred Astaire.
They have delicate bodies like Antropoids.
Martian, the defenition: the average Martian isn't weird, they seee s as weird, so who's weird? laugh a lot.
Not the Martian with gentle mannerisms, correct posture, and speech. Regal by nature.
The day Arthropods hook up with Martians and Angels will be a monumental day for the world.
All the bad stuff, you know what it is, will be swept away like dust.
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