Ask the Beatles, ask Aldous Huxley, ask ME
LSD
The one time
I leapt out of
a perfectly good airplane
from 3,000 feet above the ground
(they call this madness
Skydiving)
I’d been going through a rough
patch as they call it.
Many failures, flops and
much heartbreak
so jumping out of the airplane had a
‘what have I got to lose’ feel to it.
I recall that I’d wanted
to take LSD to heighten
the rush of it all
but I decided not to
at the last minute,
chickening out.
On his deathbed
Aldus Huxley,
unable to speak
from the larynx cancer
that was killing him,
jotted a note to his wife
asking for a shot of Acid
which she gave him
with a follow-up dose
A few hours later,
just before
he died.
Now THAT is some
bawdy, brave new world
kind of shit right there —
that’s leaping from the plane
sans the parachute
and doing cartwheels
and somersaults
and laughing loudly
all the way down.
At present we have
external madness via
our politics,
and internally via
our global pandemic —
I’m not sure LSD
can cure either,
but it would certainly
make our ride to the end
more interesting.
