The Trip

from by Peg Simone

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lyrics

The Trip
“Even though I am a Hippie/sometimes I just cannot Love.”
--Sparrow

Brain universe totality afloat in skull sea eternity pill
Bluesilver Redgold Greenblack Gelitentacle Aieee
Balance elephant dance construct on shell of giant tortoise
Goo’bye! We gon’ missin’ you! You a-goin on a trip’n
Everyone else is here waving adios weiedersehn
Ciao sayanora a bientot gooby googoo
Googly all eyes on you! Luckily (all ways “luckily”)
So much going on county fair-wise carousel ferris wheel
Running circles merry-go-rounds of energy from
Organ grinder’s cranking monkey scat tapdance shuffle candy cotton
Corn dog braying contests allow you to nip round back
o’Freakshow tent with little purple barrels of Trip ~~~~~ Light
Bulb smashes slivers teeth grit dripping light

Welcome Well Come Writewritewrite Po Dem
Poor everybody All Emotion what’s the word for

For gold shone shine on Holy Mount Vaginasof Tamalpais
Acid Tribal Gathering Riposte: All nod together now
NO CAN WRITE ink blending into page, it’s All One

Here I capped the mesc
Split the little containers plastique
Get wacky wordy Scooooop the brown brain pow
Der in and slip other half cap in and twisty That’s one
Put it aside and dive into Two
Know what it means to dive into two?
That’s the part that allows no digressions as my Man
Hammers around on the ark where we take two
Of each kind, tanGoing who is your Other? and as sun sets my other Man’s
Man just hears Moon
Will join our ark space launch slated for later the same ~~~~~~~~
We are going to the moon, now luckily the moon will be with us, so
We will already be there before we leave! Get image beyond definition rose

Destination Road Rise Rose
Terrific flower gold sun blossom into single bud eternal stillness enwrapped
Rapt all possibility no actuality hyper image of no image What Will Be Rose
Green thorn paramecium coverlet, hairy ball raging, gorging scientific taxonomic dialogue with language itself
(“The River”)
To all those who died believing in their reality, the Window is
Not The Window but is only the window – the window of the apartment with the tin fool wall paper and the Indian medal lamp covering the red bulb of love is not the window of eternal consciousness no matter how far out you may walk trying to open the Doors of Perception on

O Rose thou art sick, ah Sunflower, slowly eternally sisyphisian unrolling the hard green allowing alarming smell supple red petals to unfurl their hair to beckoning sky

While meanwhile the strychnine has kicked in and the answer with a ding is the bell and wandering in the tchotchke store (I AM A WRITER) I buy All The Bells in the store, And The Stand They Came In On (ten dollars) …

Once in North Carolina Pat looked at me and said, That’s just like you, you’d rather trip with strangers than relax with your girlfriend

I got a phone call from Danny DuBoff and Will Daily to come to this party (or was it Jocko?) that there was some crazy ass weed there so I jumped out of bed told Pat I’d be back and lit out for the gathering where we smoked “Hog,” which would eventually pick up the moniker “Angel Dust.” Its defining characteristic was you were here, you were there, but you were never in between. Was this where I was shouting Groove on Boogey as we listened to the droning bass clack paddle bell of Nonesuch’s Chanting Tibetan Monks, one of my Top Ten Picks, up there w/ Hendrix, Beatles, Salty Dog (Procul Harem). King Crimson…Talking w/ Will and Danny, I went into detail of my Experiencing, at which point they offered me a job, to start immediately!, as their Taster, first assignment to work on big Mescaline Deal in Sausalito

O Gods of Tiny Particles, and Absurdity of Gods of Humongous Important Shit! Call on you psychedelically I got my trip shirt on, the long white embroidered Indian light as wind catcher skin itself (even better than skin!) and my Freak Flag is a-flyin, -- I don’t think I cut my hair till 79 or 80 years, down to the ass, at war with Society, the drugs making the two sides speaking different languages, different consciousnesses, different worlds… the busted nuclear family with the overbearing mother acting like she’s not and the emotion-starving father and his disappearing act vs. the Family We Choose Ourselves, the commune, our promises to stay together busting up by money, my shrink now telling me to create a “soft landing” when money becomes the Issue, and how I am maybe even doing that in buying Elizabeth all the comforts we can think of, she wakes up in the morning feeling awful, says “I don’t think I’m going to get better” and yet last week, for the first time since January, six months ago, when we had to go off Patupilone, that the tumors have been in retreat…

credits

from Witch Tree Road, released October 1, 2012
Production by:; Igor Cubrilovic
Recorded by: Peg Simone
All music and instrumentation written and performed by: Peg Simone
Vocals by: Peg Simone
Words by: Bob Holman

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about

Peg Simone New York, New York

Peg Simone’s songs have the ability to lead your consciousness out of reality and into a world of memory and nostalgia.

Coming off her release "Secrets From the Storm" (Radium/Table of Elements), Peg Simone's album "Witch Tree Road" is available digitally. In addition to her solo work, she also has a full band and plays guitar in Jonathan Kane’s February. See the Vimeo site for her videos.
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