The air of deep colours hovered over my head,
magnetic, enchanting splitting colours.
I levered the illusions listening Pink Floyd
my veins never felt the blood this way;
speeding to give a bloc to my mind
free the soul from this bib body.
Apagoge the world is in my command
but dreadful the vision may end,
I was marijuanaised.
The leaves found its way to leave the seeds
smothered with tobacco, the grass
no longer stayed as allied.
Rolled in an ashen paper with a soft bud
these were the signs, I have had heeds.
My lungs felt the grey smoke, opening to the miracle
and insignificant the world around
I esteemed the powers of the that white stick
glowing and shining the colours surround.
My mind went at ease
gathering the colours
just then I inked these words
dragged right out of the white smoke
when hands were observing peace.
I was marijuanaised
Let’s keep this grass legal
for the simple pleasure of the smoke
cultivating and brewing the seeds
It’s not me but gods wish, lets not jeopardized
simply I felt the need;
I want to get marijuanaised
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.