tired

the slumber of the weary

the weathered

the worked over

waiting and extended

exhausted

elongated

guarded and resigned

uncharted and blind

stumbling in the garden

tripping on grasses

and sunflower patches

blanketed in swaths

of matching masses

far flung flower faces

facing future cases

gambling with glamour

eyes goggled

blind but managed to gander

into the mind and

lie because it is

tied to images

like a freestyle poet

struggling to find

words

reaching and stretching and searching

for a fresh illustration

but forcing the issue

with syllables that clash and

vowels that grind

couplets lost

to cashed out limericks

that have no beat and

sound out of whack

lines

do not rhyme

keep uneven rhythms and odd time

signatures

on the dotted line

buying

the dime bag with

a squeeze of the durban lime

hybrid is fine

all my bud is kind

bud

dominant sativa with

twist of the indica

that will leave you in a spin and

sick of the win

like trump said before he even started to begin

to destroy the system with

his weapons of aggression which

let him gain in this system with his

contrarian wisdom of division

dragging this tradition of rigging the

outcome and maintaining the sum

total gain of the profit from

labor driven by pain

and the prison of materialism