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Kris Fireheart Dec 2018
Feeling...
Ceiling...
Crush another can,
Something wonderful!
Wasted now,
Broken house...

Yeah...

Defeat,
Concrete...
Take another hit,
And it's all complete,
Just **** me,
Oh,  **** me...

Yeah...

Can't you see?
It's my creed,
Blood red seas,
So permanently!
And this is me!
Oh, this is me...

Yeah...

Sunlight,
So bright,
I think about a day,
I've never had my rights!
I'm Equal,
And Unequal...

Yeah...

Shadow ball!
Oh,  shadow ball,
Tell me why I never
Had faith at all!
Just let me sleep,
Oh, let me sleep,

Yeah...

Oh, Hashish,
And *****,
I can't imagine when
I've ever felt so numb!
Just guide me,
And hide me...

Yeah...

It's something new,
And something *******,
A form of happiness
I never thought I'd brew,
But still, I knew,
Oh, I knew...

Yeah...

Shadow ball,
Oh, shadow ball,
Tell me why I never
Had faith at all!
Just let me feel,
And leave me be...

Yeah...
About my favorite combination.  I call them shadow *****.
Martin Mikelberg Dec 2017
hashishadoworld
It's a dark and far away place I'll never know or want to know. But it exists. Meditation works just as well but it takes a lot of practice.
Indian Hippie Jun 2017
the Himalayas rise
there is snow on the peaks
I watch it from my bed
I gaze and gaze at it
in the morning
as a little village girl goes by
sniffling with cold
I too am cold
it is chilly here in Tosh in May
but a young Israeli boy
took off his shirt
and stood on the fencepost of the guesthouse dancing
down was the deep green valley
all of us watched in admiration
the next day I went down to the waterfall
which from here is a beautiful whisper in the air
there are donkeys and a path
and pretty houses on the other side of the valley
and everywhere there are people smoking hash and relaxing
in the cafes and the guesthouses
it is almost like a pilgrimage smokers keep coming
and sit around smoking talking
I pull down my woollen cap my arms and back
feel the chill despite a thick sweater
despite a blanket and a four inch thick quilt
I roll my joints and smoke them alone
sometimes smoke them with others
I look at the hills and the valleys and the wooden houses
I look at the white peaks glowing in the sun
and talk about CCR and stained glass art with Michael from Norfolk
who’s going down the valley to another village for a party tonight
with his young Spanish friend
I talk about Bombay with Puneet and Manya from Kanpur
who’ve come here on a Bullet
Hash Heaven Manya says reading my mind as the joint passes on
to the four engineering interns from Delhi
and all the time I sip on ginger lemon honey
for my sore throat until on the last day it disappears
unlike the young Israeli girl’s pink laptop in a pink cover
found by the part time caretaker in the garden on a pink chair
she left behind last night because it was too dark
come again the guesthouse boys say to me as I pay them
what a scene I think how cool as I begin to leave the village
down the dung-clotted stone steps nodding to the smokers coming in.
Tosh is a small mountain village producing great hashish in Kullu district of Himachal Pradesh. I dedicate this poem to the village, its people who run a great show and all the hash smokers who flock there. Bom Shankar!
Martin Narrod May 2014
Gold crown of Olympus, hair crown and
Skin gown. First we throw our bodies at
One another. Heaping piles of human soup.
Bold maneuvers, hands and mouths and
Boy meets girl lying down, on top, intertwined.
Skittish moves on a tryst. Wet fingers of freshly
Tendered infinite decibel pleasure screams.
Streamers above a long rooting movement.

Overture of Aphrodite. Sparkling, glitter woman,
Legs pressed tightly to the chest,
Loose appendages intertwined. Intersticed dactyls
In rapture, soothing. Bodies build to one heart's beat.
Two muses fused together. If I wasn't afraid I'd wake you up
I'd slip on my shoes and make a tropical fruit fondue.

Stage two:

Ice cream lover's delight. Opus to brown sugar.
To swimming again, a pursed lurking of lips
In the academy of the pastoral commonwealth.
We eat at our stations of the sublime. Today which was
A day of discord- you nursed me back to the land of the living.

Stage three:

***.

Stage four.

***.

Stage five:

As we earn our pageantry to take
Stride on this Earth, and string a
Great bow of eager success among all of us,
You, me, them. While I continue to
Gaze at you. If not dinner, perhaps a
Cup of tea instead.

— The End —