THOU SHOULDST BE ALIVE IN THIS HOUR!
I think that I shall never see
(A-sittin' in my sauna)
A poem as lovely as, let's see
A grove of marijuana.
Her leaves reflect a lovely green
Her blossoms give off spice
Her perfume draws the honeybee
Methinks I dwell in paradise.
Writers, poets, music crews
Use ganga as a door to Muse
And ardent lovers spread her fame
For aid in Aphrodite's game
Three thousand years her jagged leaves
Have helped good doctors treat disease
And holy men from every sod
Have praised her as a way to God
Wise men from the middle east
Considered fine hashish divine
They taught that pot restrained the beast
Beheaded fools who misused wine.
If I can sell baby-killing aspirin
Alcohol, rat poison, gasoline
Tobacco, dynamite and all the guns you need
Why can't I trade a single ounce of weed?
While stuffing pockets with our wealth
The politician schemes to stay in power
Screams: I can save you from yourself
By ordering low-paid cops to bust a flower.
Is pot really so bad for you and for me
That we hafta call out the bloody marines
Our back yards to assault, our assets to seize
In prisons to lock us for "growin' o' the green"?
I sing the spirit inside the seed
I praise the gorgeous Goddess weed
Poems are made by fools like me--and Dylan Thomas
But only God's the force that thru the green fuse drives cannabis.