The Haze of a Nation
Puff Puff: smokers delight)
sweet weed gets me high
from a low place where we reside
[lost in the vortex of Yeat’s gyre…]
a reality struck,
and,
completely fucked with oxymorons
and golden hair Buff Oons -whoooo
wrongly emphasize
lies.
In such grandiloquence,
we___
fall
under the sway of his Rohypnol;
placed in our glass,
while we cheered his indiscrete acts.
Smoke, smoke, smoke it away.
A completely successful
robbery witnessed on national t.v.,
enforced on the indigenous
by sparkling chested heroes
with small dicks and heavy belts.
Salute them?
Those who have repressed time and again,
and again will stop at nothing
to blindly follow golden rules -
no matter how much insanity
they scream,
the screams
fall unheard as echoes muted
in forgotten dreams
___where the shadows rule.
Yes, “get high,” I think I will…
even if it makes me a criminal.