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Amsterdam at the Cannabis Cup…

Doing what we do to keep spirits up …

Out to dinner…

Tasting the potential winner…

Bubble water…white wine…sprite please…mozzarella pizzas…and raviolis…

I’ll sit here…oh you there…

Be at the Cannabis Cup or be square…

Inspiration inspires me…with each new thing I see…

Change…things so open…it’s strange…

Cannabis my thoughts you rearrange…

Camaraderie…kindred souls…

Shakti in every joint that’s rolled…with stellar care…

Our special passes we wear…with love and pride…we stride…

Down the cobble stone paths…

Diaphanous fog projects light casts…

Havin a blast…Praying that the moments last…

A tribe we are one…coming together…

With the chant that we sung…

Haya-Haya-Haya-Ya—Haya-Haya-Ho

Haya-Haya-Haya-Haya-Ho

We all know it’s about being best in show…never argue with one who knows…

Lots of Kush…Catatonic bush…Hawaiian snow, Sour diesel, Liberty…

All kinds of seeds to sow…

Number two, twenty-one and twenty…the strains and variety are vast and plenty…

All of us from different places…each unique… beautiful faces…

Quality scoring…surely not boring…

Aromas…taste…nothing overlooked…or goes to waste…

Nice and sticky…a bit of a creeper…all these resins take us deeper…

Which one will fly…through the gate?

Who wins…deciding their fate?

Scribbling pens…till the awards begin…

It’s getting late…one judge down…He hits the dust…

Doing his best job a must…always remember in God we trust…

Here’s the scoop…felt blessed in this loop…

Here’s for a job well done…

Adding all the scores and sums…Really…It’s a hard call…

We are splitting hairs and all…it’s really all great…it’s hard to rate…

It’s a personal trip…when you’re ripped you’re ripped…

Everyone hold your head up tall…we are all really having a ball…

Cause we all won…

Kudos for a job well done…

To all…a job well done…

Cause we are all one…

In the stillness of the morning…I contemplate…I meditate…

What a great trip it’s been…

Jet lag…late nights…full plates…Hurry up and wait…

In the stillness of the morning…I listen for your call…in this vast hall…

I feel small…humbled…blessed…and grateful for it all…

Attention news flash…

Feels like something from the past…

I thought this poem finished…done…

But it wants to go on and on…

Like the old bong song…

Let’s all sing along…on and on and on…

Temple Dragons…tails are wagging…

In control…on patrol…and off on strolls…

Police they surround…A docile crowd they found…

What a waste of energy and time…But yet a good opportunity to rhyme…

Rhyme…rhyme with High Times…

I can hardly wait to see…

How we all benefit our fate…

Because I believe this story…

Goes on and on and on

Attention inner being…

Let’s reconvene on the balcony in 215…

Attention inner being…it’s all about prop…

215!!!


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On the Plane Flying Home

On the plane flying home—

Through the oval windows—my thoughts roam—

I look out—and inwardly OM—

Ocean waters below—

Diaphanous clouds cloak the earth—

Billowing by in this vast blue sky—

I ask why—why me—? I sigh—

That I bore witness to all this change—

in my lifetime before I die—

Never before have I openly shared—

To let people in—

To swim in the clear pools of wisdom—

in my green eyes—

With no reservations—no fear—no ties—

To tell my truth—to erase the lies—

Through the oval window I look out—

Cotton candy clouds—billowing— majestic—

The clouds I chose for the poster I proposed—manifesting before my eyes—

Being layered with chiffon veils—

All veils of illusions being lifted—

And me and mine being gifted—

With honor and respect—

For a life time of secrets being kept—

On my knees—I’m so humbled—

I wept—

From the center of who I am—

My Depth—

And through that tear—I peer—

Through a convex sphere—

I peer through this magnified lens—

I see everything I hold dear to me—

In the mandala of my mind—

In that moment I make a promise—

Not to whine—

To cultivate my Goddess Divine—

So sublime—

You know what I’m talking about?—

The kind—the kind—the kind of human—

That’s compassionate—that’s kind—

Anything short of that—

Is nothing but a waste of life and time—

On the posters I created for High Times—

Peace and Love in the clouds I’d sign—

Here I am—

Just a puppet—just a mime—for the divine—

I’ll Shine—!

Around it comes “4:20” it sums—

Staying up all night—getting on a plane—

Early morning—day’s first light—

On this flight—

All day we fly with the rising sun—

Leave one day—fly home—

To arrive the same day we left!!—

Arriving home with all our stuff—a huff!!!—

“Oh my God” copious amounts

We would puff—

Never in my life—

Have I smoked that much stuff—

I surrender—I give—Uncle—

Enough is enough—

I’m a wimp—in my new sparkle shoes—

I’d pimp—

Walked so much late at night I’d limp—

Through the oval window of this plane—

I observe the rising sun—

Of a new Day just begun—

How is that possible to fly with the sun?—

Back home to destination—

Where this journey began—

With my beloved-my daughter-my son—

When I look out into that vast space and clouds–I saw that we had won—

No—not the Cannabis Cup—WE WON!!!—

Flying into the crimson morning sun—

Through the archives of my mind—

To the beginning where we had begun—

That night—when the Hippie Avatar—

My beloved took flight—

The last words he spoke-to me, his consort—

In the early morning dawn—he looked at me and said—

“Mama we got it made—-The sun just came up”–

He flew—I knew—

And through the oval windows of this plane—

I watched for hours—

Just above the layer of clouds—

The sun coming up all the way home—

Through the oval window of this plane—

I inwardly OM—

The rest of the way home—

AUM—AUM—AUM