Samuel Garth ' DISPENSARY'
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A snowstorm blew in from the north last night
with blasts of frigid air pounding the loft hard,
paralyzing wind howling brought terrorizing fright.
In the morning I'm expecting a snow-covered yard
probably with banks of snow against the railing,
and roadways treacherous with ice frozen hard.
Lucky we will be if our car battery is not failing
and we can make our way to the local dispensary
though we cannot expect a trip smooth sailing
because the winds will still be flinging icy misery.
Wrapped in heaviest woolen coats and scarving
with heavy galoshes since the road is slippery,
In the new soft snow, our footprints are carving
for those tracing the path to the narrow lane,
They must hurry for imprints are quickly blurring.
On second thought, to go outside is most insane,
a snowstorm blew in from the north last night.
For those tracing the path to the narrow lane,
paralyzing wind howling brought terrorizing fright.
written January 13, 2022
Crossing over the next life level
over the hill double digits
crosstown 59th, uptown 60th
my closest friend RX
guide, translator and dispensary
preferred or not preferred
formulary or non-formulary
designed to self-destruct
at the non-preferred level
always in pain trying to sustain
RX slapping dollar dollar bills
from hand to hand just insane
multi billion dollar industry
and a world still in pain
the non-preferred psycho
government's best friend
we the people, yes we can
crossing over the next life level
minds must unsubscribe
life after life choosing sides
hate on hate constant genocide
and no vaccine to prescribe
non-preferred life unchosen
still trying to be freed
I can't breathe
bodies worn and torn
building non-formulary economies
I can't breathe
non-preferred in a democracy
racism still at eye’s view
in a world of many hues
minds of many still confused
the world’s republic is changing
a Pharmacracy is evolving
in the cracks of humanity.
Outside, being outside, I thrill in nature’s seminary.
All lives sincere within earth’s sweet, sylvan sanctuary.
Trees never lied to hide their ancient commentary
or nature bid to conceal its ways often arbitrary.
As a golden, soft, internal peace dispensary,
nature does reveal mysterious ways unwary
of gifting precious tranquility I find necessary.
Alive, being alive, I soar when I may tarry
with nature’s simple, honest need, and frolic merry.
Abundant joy I do derive breathing solitary
while nature comforts me in her own monastery.
From ocean shore to ocean shore, mountain to prairie,
earth elements venerable release is salutary
for human grief to fly away in nature’s aviary.
To love, or to be loved, what is love?
To have loved and to have been loved, which is greater?
To accept one’s fate concerning love, this is a sentence of life.
Where is peace found, when love abounds everywhere,
but the waves never touch the shore?
Can the sounds of the forest be heard in the heart of busyness?
If the busyness full of love is dispersed from the creator,
are we only fulfilling our own needs?
What of those whose love is a well of never ending supply?
Should not those that taste of that love not also return love to that well?
How deep does the well go?
When that well, is supplied by the creator of the dispensary,
that love will never run dry.
I am the dispensary and the forest, and I am the shore…
I walk in scarred peace…
Jesus reincarnates on the earth plane
and decides to open a medical marijuana dispensary.
Although business is booming,
he forgets to get the blessing of the DEA,
and soon the IRS becomes his worst judas to date.
Can the savior of psychedelics conjure a reason
to avoid crucifixion in this latter day tale
of medicine, financial derivatives,
and destruction of the empire of symbols?