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A poem or 2

97 posts in this topic

poetry is gay,is all I have to say ,sorry to be a cunt. if your opinion I affront, but if it does ....... are you gay?

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hey you there

please dont judge

that which

you cant touch

i used to care

now i dont much

cause of all the things

you done touch

judge away

with your negativity

it defines you

dont mean nothing

to me

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the garden is waiting

so stop your debating

the journey is worth more than the prize

im here to guide you

so let me inside you

you will never know untill you try

realise your potential

i know it sounds mental

we are much more than meat and just bone

the karmas to learn you

the twists and the turns too

the future is ours now to own

we're all on a journey

its sweet and sour honey

dont take peanuts for your precious time

take care for your sanity

and dont get caught by the vanity

dont take the sentence if you cant do the crime

dont watch the news

for all you see is abuse

of the planet and of your fellow man

they programme you with sadness

and cruel acts of badness

its no wonder my heads in the sand

dont let the hate eat you

this is how they will beat you

the darkness will blacken your mind

they feed off your sadness

but in your heart theres no badness

a true love you just have to find

try not to slacken

your grip on the atom

the quark and the gluon combined

its quantum mechanics

keep calm do not panic

an improbable truth you will find

Edited by swam_pi
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On ‎28‎/‎12‎/‎2016 at 5:56 PM, Captain Bonglington said:

Just seen this Boojum, that's really good mate :yep: you written anymore?


Boojam's poem is brill, his gift manifest, I've read lots today, but his is the best.

Its late and I'm tired, I'll go make a cuppa, oh no I won't, I'll just take an UPPER.



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Хорошие стихи

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Posted (edited)

raise your glasses  and give thanks,

to those who kindly run seedbanks.

pop the seeds and watch them sprout,

harden off then they go out.

a hidden spot that you have found,

the seedlings planted in the ground.

you water them , and off they go,

a secret, quiet, guerilla grow.

and as months pass,  the buds appear,

enough you hope will last the year.

at harvest time, on secret land,

with bags and cutters in your hand,

you chop your harvest, from the mud,

kolas, and the popcorn buds.

away to dry, to get a cure,

the ganja harvest strong and pure.

so grab a joint, and fill your pipe,

or stoke a bong up if you like,

with resin, pollen,  kief  or kush

and celebrate this special bush ....


Edited by vortex
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good poems, thank you

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