Pot and Meditation

Pot and meditation,
Thats a different situation.
Why we call it pot anyway?
Who banged on together and said,
Hey clunks of steely buds,
The are pot-like,
Was a stupid man.


Or maybe it was a character in a far off plan,
Jumping jilliwatts of juice in the ol' caboose.
These poems are not of any real -
They are single monestaries of solemn and shame,
Crazy mind ramblings of the criminally insane.
I'm wailling my heart out,
But I don't know who I am to be saying.


This whole game is infinite so where do I sit?
I keep thinking my turn is almost up "and then what."
Better get to class and, be a fuckin savant,
Otherwise why were you blessed with life kid,
Man cmon'
This life is a play, that lesson we too quick forget.
Sleepless nights not for I, there are many adventures until I die.


Emanuel Caparelli