PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Not being one, who was born with a green thumb, or one of any other colour

I’ve never had a yearning to plant, nor care for, any type of flora or fauna

But as good fortune would have it; I was blessed, with the mind of a scholar

Or at least that was my theorization; while under the influence of marijuana

This was a period of time, during which knowledge flowed; like a gushing river

Sadly each lesson learned, was in the end, not comprehended and thus lost

But I had this situational calling to earn a living, and so, had these seeds to deliver

To some Basmotical garden; which unfortunately, in my haste, I later tossed

Of course, this occurred during a time of immense erudition; under the influence

This did cause me to manifest myself, as some exceptionally tortured soul

Not realizing how my outer apparent confidence, hid my inner impudence

I, into this garden of good and evil; did so thoughtlessly, let myself stroll

As I entered, under this arching gothic gate, I immediately sensed a certain presence

And as I walked, was instantly drawn to one side’s fescue; bordering on my path

I was unfazed by the pedestrian variety of growth; but savoured each sweet essence

And as each new scent infused my sensory cells; my nostrils flared in their aftermath

But then on the other side, odors that stung and burned; a forewarning of some kind

So I grasped at my proboscis and squeezed it; to prevent any further penetration

Making me gasp for air through my mouth, infusing my throat; though so disinclined 

Then causing me to heave and cough, from the putrid smell; during its gestation

On this side, such flowers of exception did excel; and yet that dreadful smell

On that, so casual a bloom; brought no visual enjoyment, only exquisite perfume

On one, like burning flesh, a rancid smell; it made me gag and want, not there to dwell

On the other, scents that made the nostrils spume, with the pleasance of their plume

Then all at once a revelation; to my left, there exists all nature of exotic foliage

But from its growth, leaped out all manner of fowl stench and guttural malodour

Yet to my right, the umbels lay, with a menagerie of misguided, erroneous spoilage

Though the effervescence of its bouquet; permeated, perceptibly from its disorder             

I felt an enticing ubiquity, but not the nature of this presence, to my left and right

So, meandered further down the trail; until at last, I felt this attraction from each force

Both from the left and right, each enticing me to leave the trail, and enter its delight

This did at last, dupe my brain to say, choose; in which direction, to which concourse

Such a variance, made me ponder the relevance of what I had just discovered

Did I sense but apparitions; or was this truly spirits, which must exist among us 

This good or evil that lay hidden on each side, thusly camouflaged or covered

And a novice such as I, knew nothing of their nature; or was it just the cannabis

But, before I could decide, a puissance did snatch my throat and cloistered all my air

Not able to breathe, I impulsively dropped the bag of seeds, which I still carried

And as the bag burst and the seeds spewed forth, I thought, I am without a prayer              

Thrust to my hands and knees upon the path, craving air; my demise, somehow tarried

As I watched those seeds slowly bounce; there arose a stream of sweet pure nectar

Which sped its way to my nostrils; and so relieved that tight noose around my throat

As my asphyxiation lost control; my passing, no longer became an imminent specter

My breathe returned, unencumbered by a weed; this new purity, to now my life denote

Not, to the ease by which I can my life direct, with mere stimulants; to be content

But to look ahead and discern, what it is I see; on which side the good or evil exists

And to forever, let my conscious being preside; over any future occasional discontent

So that now, my concentration would be, on the essentials; of which my life consists

But yet those seeds, so strewn about the footpath; was it for me then, to them gather

Either take their discharge as a sign; if left alone, the wastage may, by itself be fruitful

Or should I harvest each as best I could, to repackage them; and would that matter   

Inasmuch, they were so scattered, I let them lay; to not salvage them, I erred as frugal             

So, I left this garden of good and evil; not perplexed by its existence, but assured

That not with the use of some opiates, would my future progress be thusly led astray

But through the realization, that stability and restraint, come from what I have endured

And good or evil, comes from attributes of my character; that I’ve earned along the way

And so, a moral you may ask.....maybe two

Then I say yes; well, of course you do

From such a visceral experience, to bring about this massive conscious newel

A meaning was ascertained; firstly, from my consignment, thence, from my deliverance

Don’t scatter your seeds aimlessly, or leave them lay fallow, on a bed sheet or a towel

And trying to discern, delights of good or evil, while high on drugs; is just pure nonsense  

BOEMS BY JA 399