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  1.     
    #11
    Junior Member

    The Poetry Thread

    angiosperm as chrysalis

    Gentle as the light of Aphrodite, oh goddess of Ur,
    from the spun earth where KI arose to the gossamer

    of all lands spun and the land its own, Turtle Island,
    bring praise to my lips for that so beautiful in
    sacrifice to you. Did you not, perfect gate of dawn,
    acknowledge the offering near my prayer gathering
    compost where my best in gratitude is given you?
    Can I not say Inanna holds the gift glad in her heart?

    Sesbania exaltata, Kannabis, Cannabis sativa, O
    red haired ones of rare seed, Indica, one season
    giving as the tree, with what eagerness you leave
    the ground for air, the ground of your exultant
    growing! Inanna holds you smiling. Ahh, IA.
    The first breath is out, then, the first breath
    is in. The colors out are of choosing...in
    is this lover of earth and such growing and air.

    You would be light, you hurry so to that seeming
    perfection. Have your dreams, good plant, let
    me do nothing to hinder them or you. Ahh,
    your sun ended roots travel with serpentine ease
    gently healing; rootless, you travel the earth,
    Memory, Heart and Center, Marijuana,
    Medicine, Food, Fiber, Incense for
    the Love of Sex, Seed of all or each of these.

    Tyranny hates you, Repression nightmares
    striking you dead, you fatigue the sentry.
    Deer range miles for your seedlings, your
    fruit leads the hungry to strength, those you
    cannot assist you repel from your magic,
    you may visit or you may trellis your making
    on a skeleton, yet, and also as light, you
    are in passing through, fearing no harm

    and bringing no worse than your warning. High
    your growing, wild your roots, confident your
    mercy, strong your making, your seed brings a love
    from earth; your flowering, sun to fire, loveâ??s heat
    into light disappearing, your body loves air
    long through the weathering of sea, mountain
    or shelter; Mistress of the wild, Protector
    of the tired places, Laughterâ??s messenger, Ahh.

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  3.     
    #12
    Junior Member

    The Poetry Thread

    I wrote this poem some years ago when I was just 16 years old. At the time I was highly religious, and I am now a firm atheist. Oh how things change. I still like the poem, though. Notice the patterns of alliteration, etc.


    With The Lord As My Salvation.

    Though I come in anguish, this I pray:
    That my spirit be not led astray,
    That in peace and peril I live each day,
    With the Lord as my salvation.

    Though death besiege me I shall not fear,
    To the Holy Spirit I must adhere,
    His glorious grace I long to hear,
    With the Lord as my salvation.

    Through times of torment and in war,
    When righteous blood begins to pour,
    My faith shall strengthen all the more,
    With the Lord as my salvation.

    Amen.

    Here is another poem I wrote when I was 16. I was experimenting with styles, and so this one is intentionally difficult to read. You may need to read it a few times to understand what is going on under the surface.

    Come Forth!

    Come forth!
    look what we have done let
    your eyes for a
    moment blanket the oppressed
    faces of those
    we have spat
    upon
    Look!
    their cheeks tear-stained
    their lips long defeated by
    poverty
    eyes wearied searching for a
    trace of hope just a small
    trace
    Listen!
    let their cries conquer
    your selective ears their
    shrill screams seek to
    be heard unanswered
    prayers
    evading pity as they plead for an
    ounce of peace
    Make haste!
    follow the footsteps
    previously taken let the fortunate
    rub salt
    in their wounds with your
    skillful arrogance slam the
    door on their
    faces and rest your head
    peacefully
    on your pillow of pride

  4.     
    #13
    Senior Member

    The Poetry Thread

    I came to her with my love
    she refused
    In a dream I went for a hug
    she refused
    I watched her watching me die
    and I cried
    Too rude and crude
    In her eyes
    I am just a bug.
    She just squashed me
    had a cigarette and shrugged

  5.     
    #14
    Junior Member

    The Poetry Thread

    Imagine a feeling of freedom so intense and vivacious that it is unlike anything you have ever been taught to experience.
    Imagine the ability to perceive and receive a happiness that you have only felt long ago, once upon a time when you were in touch with the part of your soul and identity that gave love and passion freely without judgment or suspicion.
    Imagine experiencing a rush unlike nothing you ever could have thought capable of occurring.
    Get in tune with the musical vibe that you feel as you ride the waves of the base that ripples like rolling stones in tranquil clear water.
    Taste the sweet, sweet nectar of a vibrant green jewel that allows you to escape all and any negativity, and relive your simplicity, explicitly through,
    just
    one
    hit.
    Now I am stoned, high as the sky, flying by the eye of the earth. Never crazy,or wild just complacent, black and mild.
    And this for me is medication, revelation and an improvisation of ideas that flow endlessly, my safe form of "NZT", exposing my mind completely to me.
    I am every stoner, I am creatively blazed, and oh how I crave the frost from the haze in this joint!
    I am the hungry stoner who can taste the pure essence of flavors and sweet memorizing tastes after the first bowl,
    I am the productive stoner who can tackle the most rigorous tasks with such vigorous speed and compliance,
    I am the intellectual stoner whose mind knows no boundaries or limits, I am the observant stoner who knows the key to the gateway of your identity,
    I am the curious stoner who endlessly searches for the answers that explain the mysteries of our world.
    Yes I am every stoner and collectively I reflect tales of the intuitive stoner...sit back relax and flow with me on my journey.

  6.     
    #15
    Member

    The Poetry Thread

    Title : Perpetual Cycles
    Double Ethere style poem
    Smoke
    Breathe deep
    Cough and hack
    Its taste so sweet
    Couch locked coma
    Battle munchies, legs weak
    Crawl to the kitchen on hands and knee
    Take another toke and figure it out
    Take a couple bites, nothing looks good
    Pizza sounds good, or maybe lay down
    Should I crawl on my hands and knees
    Not sure that I can stand
    Got major munchies
    Couch locked buzz
    Its so sweet
    Breathe deep
    Smoke

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