I kept quiet far too long.
I couldn't open my mouth,
it seemed, not even for a peep.
The perfect doormat.
Welcome to one and all.
Come wipe your feet.
Tolerance is that ugly sin
a coward learns to live with
while incessant cycles repeat.
Nothing changes when nothing's said,
silence being the prime enabler.
And like a weed, shame grows
in the shadow of acceptance.
AP: 1st place 2025
creeping toward clover
tiny yellow wood sorrel
jealous dandelions
Smoking toking you must be joking
it's a bust I just don't need an altered sense
of time and space or on choking
a mind-numbing feeling of euphoria
as I am happy as a clam
(thank you ma'am)
for as you two while under the influence
of lethargy-inducing external stimuli
proceeded in search of smokeable weed
a.k.a., a whole lot of pot
a joint venture indeed
the words I heard by you bemoaned
when about to go driving were
'No left turn unstoned!'
Candle glow at midnight
The hatch is locked
A scrambling splutter
As I reach for the key of circles and bolts and lines
But just as before
The circle ends
Four corners behind
And I'm scrambling again for another key
I plead the glow as I–
Well, do I cherish my existence once more?
Foot taps to the humming
Blood rushing under my skin
I'm thrown to the couch
A corner, I curb
Did I feel the end? Was there an end in sight?
My head tilts, and I
Can't quite seem to keep the colours
Steady in my mind
For better or worse, I do mind
Do I love?
I don't love, I don't love, I don't love
I don't love. I do love. I don't love. I do love.
Candle glow at midnight,
The hatch is locked
A scrambling splutter
As I reach for the key of circles, bolts and lines.
But just as before. The circle ends 4 corners behind
And I'm scrambling again for another key
I plead the glow;
It flickers as I-
Well, I,
I cherish my existence once more
As another circle starts to grow...
My foot taps to the humming,
Blood rushing under my skin, I'm thrown to the couch–
It's way past midnight. Immobile, so I curb the corner.
Did I feel the end?
For better or worse, the hatch unlocks, no key.
My head tilts, and
I can't seem
To keep the colours uniform again.
I spiral to only splatters of *pink* and *green* caressing the wall
Overwhelmingly.
Please, don't, love.
But I do, do I? FOR WHAT PURPOSE?
I plead once more.
And become void, I hate. I hate. I hate.
But only pink could resonate.
I think I’ll stomp on you
Crush you, you worthless weed
Fools include you in a bouquet
Recipients look the other way
Oh, drat, my trouser cuff is yellow
The launderess will bellow
Greasy stains take time to fade
~ Reputations rarely remade
Willie Nelson
likes to play music for fun
he doesn’t need money for his family to feed
but as a sideline he developed his own brand of weed
• A lone carton sitting in the bin
• Spreading the smell of burnt weed
• A breath of fresh air is what I desperately need
• I don't think I can bring myself to go back in
Butterfly weed
______________
All required to explain,
Was the spoon full of taste.
Taste of earth,
The taste of the sun,
Going up and down in symphony.
Little dolls,
Recreating its system
Choosing the right and wrong in various flowers.
A secret tunnel,
To the other side of the forbidden tulips
Is a butterfly weed,
Asking for pride.
Ever again,
Anyone who could have find the silence
Emptiness
Among us,
Is not so far away from preference.
White is too pure
For any refusal.
For any devastating breath.
Any love between anything.
The sound of victory,
Was never made for fragility.
A warm soak into the snows deep heart,
That was
That was made for.
She says she prefers weed
That its as wholesome as green trees
But if she’s a marijuana queen
Why can’t she do more than eat
Babies need their mothers
Men need their lovers
But her only desperate desire
Is to set Mary Jane on fire
Is it a gateway drug
For many it is a help
For her it’s not enough
She mooches off everyone else
Maybe her teens wasn’t a dream
And she had childhood trauma
But nearly thirty and it seems
She is the cause of today’s drama
I’m not a fan of anything
That kills your motivation and dreams
Your drug of choice isn’t working
Please abort and start praying
Sharp, spikey
in green coat
weed?
Have you wiped off the traces of me
Our shared photo albums, emails?
Have you tidied up your memory
Are you sure it is cleaned of my trails?
You had no time to spare a minute
I quite understand, knowing that
You are completely within it
When problems dictate the impact
Defending your life, you don’t need me
Concentration is all you need
But what if I too, concentrate on thee,
Will you cut me off as a useless weed?
son's hands tremble fierce
all gas going to burn it up
needs to find rhythm
Aah, the sweet smell of Sinsemilla,
I love to smoke it every day.
But what I love the most of all...
Duh, what was I going to say?
I am but a weed
In God's flower garden
Humbled to exist
Even if not as red as roses
Not as tall as sun flowers
Not as warm as marigolds
Not as thrilling as lillies
But I am wonderfully and fearfully made
I invite imagination
And like a falling star
Children pick me to
Blow blue breaths wishes upon
And I fly into whimsical wind
To deliver the messages of hopes
I start my journey as gold and then
Turn white just before my flight
A prize in disguise
I am a dandelion.
Related Poems