Stoned Poets Society: Poem 1

High!

God, I’m brilliant

and I’m only seven years old.

Tomato!

The light flashes

Horses ride off into the sunset.

Instantly and repeatedly ends all stories the same.

 

Yesterday was the day before today

I spiritually gave way

Scientifically the horse is not alive

We thought it would tamely survive

Hello I love you,

and he wants to help himself…who?

 

That’s the way the earth crumbles

and the poison drives you clean.

Directly from the center of the earth only rumbles

I con you not although I’ve never seen

Beyond the mountain the dragon fumbles

Position me somewhere I’ve never been

Enquiring she pursued her greatest passion

Slowly he undressed himself, New fashion!

 

Written by: Vanessa, Warren, Wendy, Brenda, Dylan & Ann.

Slide the Key

Slide the keyKey

into the slot

Cruel memories

I forgot

Inside I slowly

gently rot

Slide the key

into the slot.

 

So long a silence

stains my fears

I remember to forget

all my years

Try to cry

no more tears

So long a silence

stains my fears.

 

Shadows follow

where I lead

In your blood

I see the greed

On your flesh

I’ll slowly feed

Shadows follow

where I lead.

 

Will it be

for me to see?

Is it you

who are free?

I was going to try

but then I knew why.

To continue on would be a lie.

Knowing the answer before you start

numbs, kills, defeats the heart.

It wasn’t hard

for me to become

cold and strong.

World of Ancient Times.

Passageways dark and eerieThe Ancient Timse

Under the mountain they lie.

Lakes of deep dark icy black waters.

Small islands of crude cold jagged rock.

So deadly, yet so alluring.

Attracting the brave

and the fool.

Mercilessly drawing them inward

and then in dark corners

slowly pushing a dagger

into their thoughts.

The evil watches as the idiot dies

in the cold and lonesome darkness.

Skeletons perhaps never found

in the sorrow and shame of greed.

Yet gold there is

and riches there are.

The Dark Lords know

that man cannot resist.

He will pursue it until his death.

Other cunning creatures

in their evil ways

are rewarded by the Lords.

 

They get no joy of it.

They sit in dark damp corners

and wallow over their treasure.

Afraid of the light of truth.

They will never know the pleasure

of soft green grass

and the warmth of the sun.

 

Evil little creatures are they

with cunning long fingers.

Many have found their way

round mans throat.

Many have felt the body

struggle and drop

limp within the deadly clasp.

 

Those evil little creatures

that place the blades of daggers

into the stomachs of men.

Watching them fall

weak with pain and shock.

 

Those horrid little cowardice creatures!