An ode to the COMA s: Connoisseurs of Organic Mood Adjusters

They call weed a cancer, an insidious drug,
but to grow this manna,
a mere hole must be dug.
A gift from nature,
a blessing from earth,
carries different names, grades, colors and worth.
Regardless of variety it seems all too absurd,
the degree of disgust invoked in one word.
it s a plant not a drug, yet you call it a menace,
a blemish on earth, but it's my stairway to heaven.
Emaciated children, destitute mothers, pathetic school systems,
yet my weed is what bothers.
Rendered illegal, made crime by law,
the resources invested could leave one in awe.
Pay your enforcers, to kick down my door,
rummage through possessions,
ask me questions galore.
Its called a gateway, but you seem to forget,
it cannot be entered
before taking first step.
We all have a choice, some made the wrong ones,
but why should I suffer because they are so dumb.
I'm only one man,
can't right society's wrongs,
I'm compelled to yield,
this is how I push on.
Cigarettes give cancer, put holes in your neck,
takes two of your senses, weed is a godsend.
Irrational hatred, lacks solid foundations,
ignorance persists, generation to generation.
The stigma attached almost makes it seem,
as if all social grievance are products of weed.
But you know as I do that its arrogance and greed,
so do us a favour,
impart that to your seed.
There's been only one female whom I have loved at first kiss,
devoid of a body, personality or lips.
Her name was Mary Jane, for years kept me sane,
can't give me head,
but she stimulates my brain.
And I am not alone in my love for this fauna,
Turner, Phelps, and Branson,
all indulgers of ganja.
Marley, Dylan, and King made huge contributions, little known fact,
they made weed their solutions.
Weed is universal, it knows no class,
no division, no hierarchy, no strata or caste.
That being said, lets roll up a j, I only got two things,
a 20 bag and all day.
So puff twice and pass,
I got nothing but time,
if you feel how I feel,
I got five on your dime.