Dubious Poetry, Anyone?

Here's a poem I wrote as an exercise, not having done such a thing in years. It's a Petrarchan sonnet on the subject of my first experience under LSD... and, yes, it's very bad indeed!

Lysergic Sonnet

Back when the Mondays were the Stones and the Roses were the Beatles and I gave a shit,
me and Heidi, backlit by MTV, each placed a square of blotter on our tongues and felt
that special imaginary bitterness, waited the breathless wait, an hour until I said It
isn't working, then oh, fuck – blurring, expanding, pleasure shivers, a melt

ing wave of laughter – spinal column vibrating, all six senses on fire – the world
malleable, strange, brand new – the commencement of ego-death – the lesser
subsumed by the greater – a fat Buddha in flight, we watched his white wings unfurl
ing in beatific dissolution – pulsing, now – Albert Hoffmann Vs. Mad Professor

throbbing in the walls – lost in thought, word, wallpaper – pattern of music in my
pores morphing into breathing rhythm, hallucinating rhythm – Primal Scream
exhorting come together – a nexus, perfect alignment, an explosion of utter clarity
minutes impersonating hours imitating eternity in a split-second flash – a dream

that never ended but burnt off like mist in the soft pink sunrise – we ended
up waving goodbye in the rosy radiance – wordless, happy, united, boundaries transcended.

(Dedicated to Heidi Rocke - hey babe, you out there?)