For Weed You’ll Need...
Fat bud agreed?
Fragrant flame grown up from a seed.
Crushed and ground, greens and browned,
Sound.
Smooth out crisp skin, keep weed tucked in.
Burning like molten in a tight white blanket.
The syrup of a surreal dream, so we drank it.
Crumble in line, assembled like soldiers
Pack tight and set light to these smouldering boulders.
Sit back and watch the world melt.
Sink into the seats, soaked.
Sail on, green day dreams and boats.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem