in the quiet
between the metal madness
of flesh being ripped from young bones
the watching and waiting
the stinging eyes
the flaring nostrils filled
with the sounds
of ****** painted flesh
there is a cool liquid silence
that comes with
the token tokes we take
as we pass the golden bowl
those times when we forget
we could flick a switch
and rock and roll
rock and roll
with psycho-delic cassettes, or
full metal jackets, though
neither allows us to see
there are times of senseless silence
and lost lizards lounging
on dew dappled leaves
in mornings after
the crushing steel
the fatal fingered agony
we sewed and reaped,
there
is
this
quiet,
this still green scent
the lizard and the fruit
the green promise of tomorrow
that we may erase
with our screaming toys
and deadly ploys
but only after we awake
from this smoky drifting dream
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
in the quiet
between the metal madness
of flesh being ripped from young bones
the watching and waiting
the stinging eyes
the flaring nostrils filled
with the sounds
of ****** painted flesh
there is a cool liquid silence
that comes with
the token tokes we take
as we pass the golden bowl
those times when we forget
we could flick a switch
and rock and roll
rock and roll
with psycho-delic cassettes, or
full metal jackets, though
neither allows us to see
there are times of senseless silence
and lost lizards lounging
on dew dappled leaves
in mornings after
the crushing steel
the fatal fingered agony
we sewed and reaped,
there
is
this
quiet,
this still green scent
the lizard and the fruit
the green promise of tomorrow
that we may erase
with our screaming toys
and deadly ploys
but only after we awake
from this smoky drifting dream
I have not smoked marijuana in many years. Once, someone asked me to describe what it was like, and I replied, "Watch the movie, 'The Scent of Green Papaya'--it is like that." The movie takes place in Vietnam, though it is not about the war. Here, I tried to blend the silky images of that movie, being ****** and the experience of war.
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