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tim-eichhornPoems
I have met Masters and OGs within joint commissions. While my dear, Granddaddy Purple’s spending my tuition. But, it was merely a Blue Dream at blunt ceremonies. While Hindus and Afghans breed in holy matrimonies. Look at all of Mary Jane's strains, I want to be like them; stuck pondering my bud's embrace and all’the broken stems. Reuniting the Skywalker's was quite like the Death Star far out, in space and burns fast like Sour Diesel’s quick car. I rode the Pineapple Express, then I hit the Train Wreck. Lights out! The conductor demands that we have our pipes checked. Look at all of Mary Jane's strains, I have plenty of them, still pondering my bud's embrace and all’the broken stems. My bud's came less often and I became less credible. I told my bud Bubba that we should switch to edibles. “But, you can't eat these sweets unless the treat's gradual high stops your bud’s from disappearing. You need me to get by!” Where are all of Mary Jane's strains? I need some more like them; losing the embrace of my bud’s and all’the broken stems. All my buds have vacated me. All that's left is Reggie and Mid, who aren't like my kind buds; they’re leaving me edgy. I’m hanging with Mid and Reggie hoping they'll come around But now, even they’re gone, and I have lost what was once found. The strains of Mary Jane are gone. I can't live without them! I dream to see my bud's once more and all’the broken stems.
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Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
The Ballad of My Best Buds
I have met Masters and OGs within joint commissions. While my dear, Granddaddy Purple’s spending my tuition. But, it was merely a Blue Dream at blunt ceremonies. While Hindus and Afghans breed in holy matrimonies. Look at all of Mary Jane's strains, I want to be like them; stuck pondering my bud's embrace and all’the broken stems. Reuniting the Skywalker's was quite like the Death Star far out, in space and burns fast like Sour Diesel’s quick car. I rode the Pineapple Express, then I hit the Train Wreck. Lights out! The conductor demands that we have our pipes checked. Look at all of Mary Jane's strains, I have plenty of them, still pondering my bud's embrace and all’the broken stems. My bud's came less often and I became less credible. I told my bud Bubba that we should switch to edibles. “But, you can't eat these sweets unless the treat's gradual high stops your bud’s from disappearing. You need me to get by!” Where are all of Mary Jane's strains? I need some more like them; losing the embrace of my bud’s and all’the broken stems. All my buds have vacated me. All that's left is Reggie and Mid, who aren't like my kind buds; they’re leaving me edgy. I’m hanging with Mid and Reggie hoping they'll come around But now, even they’re gone, and I have lost what was once found. The strains of Mary Jane are gone. I can't live without them! I dream to see my bud's once more and all’the broken stems.
A comedic view of a "pothead" thought process.
#poem#poetry#drugs#poems#ballad#marijuana#wordplay#dialect
tim-eichhorn
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tim-eichhorn
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
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