The bells of a million bicycles fill the air, townsfolk amble without even a care.
Atmosphere of dozy dreams.
Tulips on the bank side pout, kissing away at the pure ****** air.
No traffic, or trafficking.
They sit, enjoying their trip.
Toking on the hookah, or toking on a ******, that choice is yours.
They roll a spliff, oh sweet Mary Joanna.
A dingy back room in a dismal dark corner.
Don't ever say that nobody warned yer.
Oppressive atmosphere of sullen death.
Addiction takes control of the lonely soul, who needs to escape.
Who may never get old.
Found slumped, laid out ,cold.
Torniquet locked up tight.
The buzz of the day, that ended the life.
Of the poor soul.
Had nothing better to do.
Attached to the end of the body that's fixed, shot up, sky high.
The world ended, not in that passion filled cafe.
(c) Livvi
There is no evidence to suggest that smoking dope leads to long term addiction issues...However, evidence suggests that dope has mental health issues of it's own.
This poem is designed to point out the differences between addiction to hard drugs opposed to enjoying a joint.
The different attitudes to drugs and takes a look at pleasure and pain.
I have dabbled in dope smoking, but explored may other substance..long before I ever had a joint...now I'm super straight!
Never ever did crack or smack....Acid and speed once controlled my life...and then guess what?
I grew up x
There for the grace of God go I x
