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so, who wrote this?
by Charlie Morganhe sat at his desk. empty headed. a stone still dancing-on;
helpless to lariat the many pomes he wrote driving home.
that pot at my daughters house was a weed that turned to
a flower in my mind. time warp had begun. i orbited.
so glad that those times are behind me, that was a thrill
and a chill; thinking back, i wonder when my last time was;
i, like Rango and John Wayne strut, murmur i am alive! stoned.
but alive. i think, i think...anyway, where was i? oh yeah,
a pot, a poet. don't write with either
as it can be hazardous to your mental health.
and Helios reins the four seasons, all in my head. i'm hiding.
do look for me. wondering at times, should i call the medics.
Dr. Spock? or somebody.
07/01/2011 Posted on 07/02/2011
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 07/02/11 at 07:14 AM "The absence of awareness that you are beautiful, that your mind is brilliant, that your talent is unmatched, is simply illogical, Sir" - Dr. Pepper. or someone. |
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