Pothead for Jesus

Let me introduce myself,
I am a left-out Christnas elf,
I am the last box on the shelf,
My life sometimes tells me all about hell.
I struggle with feelings of harming myself,
Fight all day sometimes with suicidal smells,
Realize I’m just missing heaven when it swells.
But I’ve got my medication now,
And I’m not the type to take the bow,
Would rather die than hear you pronounce,
These choices of mine, man how could you denounce?

But it’s calming for me,
I smoke marijuana medically,
I ask Him to bless it, I give it up freely,
Not here to get high, but my mind won’t stop screaming.

They gave me Xanax,
Tried Prozac and xenlafax-
-Ine, Ambien, Effexor, throwing them back,
Two things they had in common: one’s they were all taxed.
Second’s they all helped me forget how to relax.

So now I try not to get mad,
Your psychiatric straightjacket is bad,
It’s poison, no doubt about that,
But it won’t own me thanks to my Dad,
I’d rather be burnt out on some Purple Kush bud,
Than spend my life as a zombie with Friar Tuck as god.

See, if He paid for all things,
Then it wasn’t just the small flings
And the walks in a mall shopping,
But He says He paid for everything
So we could be free to love Him.

And my physical mind pain some days won’t fade,
If I’m typical, mind games won’t wait to flay,
But when I’m in heaven’s gold, my maimed coconut will stay,
My God’s not mythical, He’s always working today.

You’re electric in the now,
You’re eclectic and You never frown,
You’re elective; You don’t let us down,
You’re effective; everything You say is done.
You’re a detective; You search our hearts with love,
You’re undefective; Your perfection is profound,
You’re reflective; Your glory shines like dawn,
You replenish; shaken together, running over, pressed down.

I’m amazed at You.
I got distracted by Truth,
This poem’s lost its groove,
But oh my God I love You!

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