Pleasure Seekers & The Pot Farmer Poem by Tom Zart

That road of pleasure seeking
Has so many deep pitfalls
And all the while we walk on it
In the distance the Devil calls.


Some folks drink those bubbly spirits
Or smoke that tall green weed
Anything to dull their conscience
As they sow their wild oat seed.

I've been no angel in my life
Though I fell from a righteous shelf
When I took those risky chances
And tried both, many times, myself.

Now I'm tired of being foolish.
So I sing my songs at church
With one eye on my hymnbook
And the other free to search.

If you're yearning to love someone
Let's get together and seek no more
Kiss and fondle by the fire
And push pillows across the floor.

For we need love, health and money
And may we live to enjoy them all
Before we're old and in our autumn
And our leaves begin to fall.

THE POT FARMER

I got out my pipe and stuffed it with pot
You better believe, it held a whole lot.
I whipped out a lighter and thumbed up a flame
Then sucked down that smoke which comforts my brain.

I tried alcohol; and smoked cigarettes
Though, they did nothing, but give me regrets.
My mom had arthritis and couldn't walk around
When I rolled her a joint, she danced on the ground.

I thought I was losing my lovemaking knack
But, after I smoked some, to me it came back.
Soon I decided prices were too high
So I searched for some ground I wouldn't have to buy.

I bargained for seeds from smokers all around
Then, got in my truck and drove out of town.
I walked through the woods where the wild birds nest
And found me the meadow I thought was the best.

I dug up the ground and sowed all my seeds
Then said a small prayer for strong, healthy weeds.
I watered at night with a five-gallon pail
The mosquitoes went hungry for I wore a veil.

Seven months went by; I thought I would die
Till the Halloween moon was high in the sky.
One night I went out, in my camouflage suit
And used a corn knife to chop down the loot.

I hung it up to dry where it couldn't be found.
Then came back and got it, when it had turned brown.
I trimmed off the buds, and stuffed them in bags
Called all my friends and passed out free drags.

In less than a week, my crop was gone!
But, I flew to St. Thomas with love hungry blonde.

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