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,
it's my stairway to heaven.
starving children,
destitute mothers,
pathetic school systems,
and 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,
go through my possessions,
ask me questions galore.
Its called a gateway,
yet you seem to forget,
that it cannot be entered before
taking first step.
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.