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Array ( [sid] => 173507 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => An ode to the COMA's: Connoisseurs of Organic Mood Adjusters [time] => 2012-07-31 11:21:41 [hometext] => [bodytext] => They call weed a cancer,
an insidious drug,
but to grow this manna a
mere hole must be dug.

A gift from nature,
a blessing from earth,
carries different names,
grades, colors and worth.
Regardless of variety
it seems all too absurd
the degree of disgust
invoked in one word.
It's a plant
not a drug,
yet you call it a menace,
a blemish on earth,
this stairway to heaven.

Starving children,
destitute mothers,
pathetic school systems,
yet my weed is what bothers.
Rendered illegal,
made crime by law,
the resources invested could
leave one in awe.

I'm only one man,
can't right all these wrongs,
I'm compelled to yield,
this is how I push on.

Irrational hatred,
lacks solid foundations,
ignorance persists,
across generations.

A stigma attached
to make it seem,
as if all social grievance
are products of weed.
But you know as I do,
its arrogance and greed,
so do us a favour,
impart that to your seed.

There's been only one female
whom I've loved at first kiss,
devoid of a body,
personality or lips.
Her name was Mary Jane,
for years kept me sane,
can't give me head
but stimulates my brain.

And I am not alone
in my love for this flora,
Turner, Phelps, and Branson,
all indulgers of ganja.
Marley, Dylan, and King made huge contributions,
little known fact,
they made weed their solutions.

The herbs universal,
it knows no class,
no division,
no hierarchy,
no strata
or caste.

That being said,
lets roll up a j,
I only got two things:
a 20 bag and all day.
So puff twice and pass,
I got nothing but time,
if you feel how I feel,
I got five on your dime. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 171 [topic] => 43 [informant] => yeboaheu [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )

An ode to the COMA's: Connoisseurs of Organic Mood Adjusters

Contributed by yeboaheu on Tuesday, 31st July 2012 @ 11:21:41 AM in AEST
Topic: oops

They call weed a cancer,
an insidious drug,
but to grow this manna a
mere hole must be dug.

A gift from nature,
a blessing from earth,
carries different names,
grades, colors and worth.
Regardless of variety
it seems all too absurd
the degree of disgust
invoked in one word.
It's a plant
not a drug,
yet you call it a menace,
a blemish on earth,
this stairway to heaven.

Starving children,
destitute mothers,
pathetic school systems,
yet my weed is what bothers.
Rendered illegal,
made crime by law,
the resources invested could
leave one in awe.

I'm only one man,
can't right all these wrongs,
I'm compelled to yield,
this is how I push on.

Irrational hatred,
lacks solid foundations,
ignorance persists,
across generations.

A stigma attached
to make it seem,
as if all social grievance
are products of weed.
But you know as I do,
its arrogance and greed,
so do us a favour,
impart that to your seed.

There's been only one female
whom I've loved at first kiss,
devoid of a body,
personality or lips.
Her name was Mary Jane,
for years kept me sane,
can't give me head
but stimulates my brain.

And I am not alone
in my love for this flora,
Turner, Phelps, and Branson,
all indulgers of ganja.
Marley, Dylan, and King made huge contributions,
little known fact,
they made weed their solutions.

The herbs universal,
it knows no class,
no division,
no hierarchy,
no strata
or caste.

That being said,
lets roll up a j,
I only got two things:
a 20 bag and all day.
So puff twice and pass,
I got nothing but time,
if you feel how I feel,
I got five on your dime.

Copyright © yeboaheu ... [ 2012-07-31 11:21:41]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: An ode to the COMA's: Connoisseurs of Organic Mood Adjusters (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Tuesday, 31st July 2012 @ 02:16:49 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Well stated in poetic form the absurdities of keeping the ol' cannabis illegal.

I quit a long time for several reasons but mostly because of that stigma imposed upon me & it by controlling factors. I know I would have taken it back up years ago if it were not illegal.

Vote for me for president and my second act of my presidency will be to make it legal. Note, however, it will be taxed as this is part of my plan to ease the deficits.

Oh, and if you're curious, my first act will be to begin bringing back all the jobs my predecessors sent to other countries.

How did this turn into a political comment? Well, isn't it all political. If we legalized pot, alcohol sales would decrease and I'm sure the alcohol producers help support the government.

I know, I know, you're probably not from the U.S. but aren't most governments the same?

Buh bye for now.

Re: An ode to the COMA's: Connoisseurs of Organic Mood Adjusters (User Rating: 1 )
by bryantjunior on Friday, 3rd August 2012 @ 07:21:50 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

i love it, very inspiring poem

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