This is a poem I wrote about smoking weed. It's an homage to Kubla Khan.

my pleasure-dome

in xanadu did kubla khan
a stately pleasure-dome decree,
and every night i do the same,
not by the alph, but in my brain
    with herbal remedy.

i grind, and roll, construct a form:
a ticket for my mind to roam,
for one deep breath and soon i'll be
engulfed in pure tranquility,
    inside my pleasure-dome.

a flame is brought to fragile leaf,
a leaf is brought to fragile lip.
the inundating clouds of smoke
encase my lungs and make me choke
    though vital for my trip.

and all at once, the world slows down,
and for tonight i'm made at home
in solitude so hard to find,
the muzzle for my barking mind,
    my stately pleasure-dome.

I thought of the phrases "xanadon't" and "kubla khan't" but decided not to include them, they're a bit too playful and whimsical for this poem.