Eye Of The Needle

This is the second poem compiled from my "Acid Diary" it is a continuation of personal introspection and written while on LSD. The name of the poem is
Eye Of The Needle:

"I am a human being, I can't believe the things I'm seeing.
I don't want to live in a world of muir.
I am a drummer.
I hate Hitler.

I am an artist.
I want to be more artistic.
I am a blood sucker, I am a tick.
I love music.

I live to play live music and have sex,
Everything else in life is voluntary.
Sometimes I feel people just hate my guts and I don't know why.
The clouds in my mind block the scope of the needle's eye.

I want to be the shepherd,
But I feel like just another sheep in the flock.
I am afraid my friends and family will abandon me.
On the shores of time, sand will erode my clock.

I love The Smiths.
The sticks in my hands are more powerful than Thor's hammer.
My main problem is I don't get along with myself.
My curse lies in what the clouds of thought once were.

I thought about living in North Chicago.
I don't care how people react or make fun of me and call me gay.
I am lonely and I feel it is my own fault, is this the right way?
In the eye of the needle all colors are seen as gray.

I am hungry.
The censor's purging blade, here comes that sound we made.
True darkness will always fade.
Here I am."

- William Covert

All Heaven Broke Loose

This is the newest piece of poetry I've written. It's kind of short as is, and might expand into a larger piece, but I kind of like the current length.
It's called All Heaven Broke Loose.

"All Heaven Broke loose
America has been fitted with a noose.
The masses sing hymns to the wicked and rich
the ones who bought our rights with a great sales pitch.

The noose America wears is tailor made
It was made in China, your tax dollars will make sure they get paid.
There is no Constitution or freedom, but don't panic or fright
We now follow business by-laws to tell us what is right.

Nobody paid much attention when America hung herself
She left behind a world in turmoil, struggling for wealth.
People still sleep in her streets, and carry on with their days.
America may still look alive, but is dead in many ways.

No one came to the funeral, not a friend in sight
No one gave last respects or talked about her former might.
The founding fathers were all spinning in their graves,
What happened to America the former home of the brave.

The funeral is not for America
So my friends don't fret or cry.
This requiem is for the death of the individual
The end of you and I."

- William Covert

From Under Bridges Of Silence

I have had a strange and sudden impulse lately get to more in touch with nature. I think this April I'm going to take a trip out west and go hiking. I haven't decided on whether to go to California, Arizona, or Nevada yet.

I was recently offered a job as a writer for a magazine, and I turned down the job because the pay was absolutely awful, there was a lot of work involved for very little, and it was in New York. The idea that a professional liked my writing, has given me the idea to maybe pursue writing, but in a different form. I've been started to focus on writing more poetry, and I think maybe a trip out west would really get my creative juices going. The Midwest is just not very inspiring.

I have been compiling poems from what I call my "Acid Diary." What a lot of people don't know about me is I don't do recreational drugs, but for a period in college I took LSD every 6 months, and I did this ceremoniously for a couple years. While on LSD I kept a diary of my thoughts and feelings while tripping on acid. I did it just as an artistic experiment to look back when I'm sober and try to see my mind's eye. I've recently gotten the impulse to take some of the entrys and compile them as poems. The style and manner is very cryptic, but I find the process intriguing. The poems consist of material that I wrote while on acid and is me totally vulnerable and honest, and have not been tampered while with sober.

The first poem is called From Under Bridges Of Silence:

"Only those that have conquered darkness can understand the embrace of light.
To understand Philadelphia is to understand me.
I have to get out of here.
I thought about living in New York or New Jersey.

I am alive, I am living.
I am resplendent in divergence, am I Catholic?
I am the Keith Moon of my generation.
I have some tricks up our sleeves.

I am still a kid at heart.
I know I am witty.
I am smart.
I am a bastard.

I hate farting.
I feel I don't fit in a lot, am I weird?
I am a human being, I am misunderstood.
It's not all bad, it's mostly good.

I use to think I was cool and funny,
And now I just think I'm an idiot and a dick.
I feel the name Bill Covert is the punchline to a lot of jokes out there.
I think I have a lot to offer that I don't share.

I love jazz, I love baseball.
I thought about living in Montreal.
I feel pretty good about America.
Candles still flicker in Romania's dark..."

- William Covert