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nmo Jul 2017
i saw you yesterday.
you were a seed
capable of growing
into a climbing plant
sticking to all thought
and turning it a little bit more
dark green.

but i yesterday,
a clay ***,
painted in bright colors,
purple mostly,
wasn't able to grow anything.

i don't know
if the reason was
i watered you
with alcohol
and indifference,
or because my soil
is not that fertile anymore.
Skyye Yoder May 2017
You are beautiful, and yet terrifying, you push your limits to try to get to Cloud9 -
until you are flying, flying away from your imperfect life, away from your mom and your dad.
you swear you'll never become anything like them-
you never open up, but when you do, oh when you do, your blue beautiful eyes stream water- pouring down your face , you probably have realized that even on cloud nine
you feel misplaced
- but I'll always be here for you, Dollface . <3
Zero Nine May 2017
Herb smoke fills the room.
I watch TV through rising smoke.
I write rib to floor.
I ruin my cervical spine
To bring you this

No words will fix a messy bed.
You didn't make your bed.
Your mother made it.
Your mother made it.
And here you sleep.
...
You may never have stood and looked down the sight
At the tommy buck out in the breeze
With the barrel on the side of the truck
As your father says, "Gently now, squeeze."

You may never have felt the kick of the ****,
Then heard the report with a crack,
Or seen the buck just scatter away,
Leaping this way and that.

You may never have smelt the smell of the air
After a fire on the plain
When fresh grass shoots are pushing through
With mushrooms, after the rain.

You may never have heard the kru kroo of a dove
When at dusk to its mate it is calling,
As shadows are lengthening out to the east
And the African night is falling.

You may never have felt the pump of your heart
As you slam the truck cab door
Then lurch on the seat as you cross the plain
To the prey when you're only four.

You may never have ridden with game in the back
As rain clouds blacken the sky,
Or heard the clank of the tail-gate chains
And, never again shall I!
My father used to take me shooting. We would go once a week or so. We had no refrigeration and no electricity. We would listen to the radio by lifting the battery out of the car and hooking it up . I shot my first buck when I was four.
This poem appears in "One For The ***" available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/One-***-Poems-Stewart-McLeod/dp/1489575103/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1494434822&sr=8-2&keywords=Neil+Stewart+McLeod+Poetry
Arjun Raj Apr 2017
Well, I sat down to write a happy one,
But all I can think of is the need to make more money,
As the song “Blue Christmas” played along to the thoughts inside my head,
As if the symphony and melodrama hung around to make me take the leap,
Of faith, grit and courage,
The one that will help me fly like an eagle they say
Or maybe take the free fall like the dead duck
straight from that 90’s video game, duck hunt, I say
Either which way, I will get to fly for a while,
But why fly high for just a while,
when you can cruise at the same height
with the stash kept clean and ready to be lit,
I sat down to write again,
A happy one this time for sure, I said to myself
As I lit, and flew all over again
Zero Nine Apr 2017
CDC was basically closed. Their OLCC application is stuck in processing somewhere between here and wherever. I went to the other one, instead. The taco place out front still isn't open. I have to imagine that a taco shop is going to do pretty well next to a dispensary. It was T2 something. Counter guy too cute, fast talker. It's a good smoke, but I ate a tray of brownies. I wish I could throw up, but if I'm gonna have love handles, I'd rather they be diabetes sweet, rather than the alternative.
Xavier Arnold Mar 2017
***
I like that feeling
A pulsing warmth
That gives me meaning
Left to flutter all alone
Even whilst with friends
It's the only place I go

As the smoke leaves the pipe
As I give another joint
Another light
Life seems happy

That bubble sound brings a tear to my eye
A room so foggy
It makes you cry
Goodbye

...
Zero Nine Mar 2017
Doing recreationals under winter under your dim lights
Within the house leaning sideways, deep in the basement
Drinking twice our size in sweet white,
whatever cheap wine
With my humming lips, bless your pale hips in a headspin
You say, "Choke me out."
And when I squeeze, you scream
I'm no top. Better learn it early, right?
shrumeling Feb 2017
For a while now there's
been a flower *** tipped on it's side
teetering on the busiest corner in town-
No one has stopped to pick it up quite yet;
Including me.
I suppose I'm waiting, watching,
wanting to find someone
who cares enough
to set it upright again.
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