potheadreturns2

As I take one puff,
From my pen-pot pipe,
I feel the strength,
The strength to move on,
When if not,
I would feel nothing at all,
So I pick up my lighter blank,
And I take another puff,
The smoke fills my lungs,
The tingling of a thousand needles,
Prickle my throat,
And I exhale at the most,
Lesiourly pace one could do so at,
I pause like a bird,
Brave yet cautious on a cold winter night,
I put the flame to the bowl,
Of my home-made wonder,
And as my lips seal the deal,
Ensuring peace and relaxation,
I taste the sweetest cheeba,
As it lightly grazes past my toungue,
And in this moment,
All the cares and worries of the world,
They dissappear until the blinds,
The blinds thatare my eyes,
Open slowly to transition,
Night to day evil to good,
And now I am high,
As if to pay homage,
To this new state of being,
I flip the dirt the old,
My hand reaches in,
About to touch sweet mary jane,
I make sure to caress her,
And lift her gently into place,
Making sure not to spill her,
Although I admit only to burn her,
So I do my mind a favor,
I take my mind higher,
With the passion of a lover,
I suck on the smoke,
And I am at peace,
Just me and my thoughts,
Im high now but I want to be higher,
I try once more,
To get some air from the greens,
But my day has blackened,
Into night,
Now I say good-bye to my friend,
Though I know this is not the end,
My trip is just beginning,
There's so much more to see,
I know I have troubles,
But they're not happening to me,
What's this I've found,
I can take care of my woes,
And I can be alright,
As long as I can always sit,
With my pen-pot pipe.

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If you didn't know I wrote this over the course of a couple of bowls.

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