High.
I’ve no use
For your snow or your grass,
Your horse or your hash
Or your stone type trash;
I can get high
On the breeze and the sky,
The storm passing by
And the lightning flash.
I’ve no time
For your joint or your weed,
Your smack, or the creed
Of the junk you need;
I can get stoned
On a beech or a rowan,
A sail headed home
Or a sunflower seed..
Life’s too short
For your H and your coke,
A head full of dope
Or the joints you smoke;
I get my kicks
Where you don’t need a fix,
With old-fashioned chicks
And the gentlefolk.
17 May 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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