Moon shines on like a dying bride,
And fades into oblivion.
Mass of sorrow is sucked from this crater of misfortune;
Bringing tranquility to this ambience
Mysteriously shunned, is my conscience.
spliff completes the circle,
Defying laws of physics as I fly,
Doped with stories of grind, massacre and love.
Future doesn’t exist and the present is past;
Reincarnated into a soul with no desires.
As I lie in this abode of imagination,
Love and lust is false and gone.
Laughter is real and sadness is stoned,
I am on a magic carpet ride,
Flying high on Floyd;
and Rambling in this light of truth and dare,
I pray- o thy lord, you created magic,
In the name of cannabis….
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Author:
ironmaiden_81186 (
Offline) - Published: December 16th, 2010 08:22
- Comment from author about the poem: if you' ve ever smoked pot ...you ll know
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
Well, thank you very much for this piece! It is an interesting expose on an unknown (to wee me) world. Very fascinating.
thanks alot cheeky...
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