Coming back home from the adolescent psych ward
my heart and mind were heavy, not to mention how hard it was to resurface,
back to school, bigger uniform pants and shirts to re-purchase.
Questions in good faith from friends, I left unanswered or just let out a lame lie
to salvage a little privacy.
I felt defeated, and tired of my life being broadcast to the masses of the teenage hallways;
alas, my inner circle showed up for me, always.
I used to say “Nah I’m good,” turn the other way and cough when my stoner crew lit the ganja, but when Fall of ’06 hit,
My life felt like it was burning anyway, so I lit
up with my True Family, Love is what they showed me,
and Mary Jane gave me back the smiles and the laughter that I felt like the universe still owed me.
Along my young adulthood I had a new bestie that tagged along and spent long afternoons
with me and my close ones, inner circles turned to ciphers and ‘pon the left we passed time
with the power of the magic plant uplifting our spirits – no matter the weather, the sun still shined.
“Closer to God” sounds about right.
I’m far from being a Rastaman but my BFF Mary Jane makes me feel so nice.
Through the reddest eyes I would inhale nature and breathe out love, the air above
and around me felt enchanted,
and boy, did I grow! Over these years I didn’t stay planted.
I brought along my bestie Mary Jane along my journey, she was there for me when I didn’t want to be anywhere.
It’s been a while since we’ve caught up, but I greet her with a smile every time she comes through,
I meet her halfway on a higher realm,
She asks me how I’ve been doing, I just laugh like old times, and tell her “I’m doing okay, I just feel like myself.” – RSM
The strong-aired curves swerve – a typhoon, perturbed, as
forceful winds flurry with feverish words –
our, mind’s micro-tornadoes dictate the day-to-day of this play, though,
society keeps us locked in to the track we’re on, molding us, like Play-Doh –
the goalposts are moving targets, dancing to wind-chimed rhythms, floating through life’s maze
and throughout the thoughts that run through us, our ego survéys –
these, hurricanes are in the brain, gusts measured in emotions-per-moment,
we circle through the cycles of love, peace, fear, and pain, – swirling,
the storm dissipates – and we’re left in a space with no humidity nor rain,
just a calm, cool, cloudless view of the dark hues of outer space.
Back around we go in our roles on this never-ending, traveling Broadway show,
as the strong-aired curves swerve – a typhoon, perturbed, as
forceful winds flurry with feverish words…
Even in the healthiest of realms, my energy has kinda sorta felt like it’s
iN and out of a dry spell.
thE day’s only just reached a bit past 12 and it’s getting less
raRe to feel only semi-present at best, just maybe almost halfway ‘there.’
gauGe nearing ‘E’ on my mental fuel tank, lights flickering, like the bulbs at Shawshank-
partY, work, home, chill, whatever I do-my mind’s highways are slowed by a delay in my brain synapses’ commute.
brainFog’s been the forecast, no choice but to try and push past the
windblAsts that veered off course my last 3 out of 5 tasks.
the depLeted memory/energy ranks pretty low, whether I feel great or plain negative,
it’s bipoLar country we’re in, where dry spells silence the once wet wells and the rivers
E N E R G Y F A L L S, the river below flows, with much more kept behind the Lithium Dam’s walls. – RSM