nothing ever makes sense
when its all upside-out-inside-down
when its all mixed up like her heart
like her thoughts till she can **** on a big fat joint
she always says dont bogart
and dont be lipping my paper...dont want your slobber on my doobie
then she relaxes into her day

but my backwards head thinks shes allready gone
least thats what im seeing in  my
upside-out-inside-down thinking
shes doing her nails
and out of the corner of my mind
i am watching her her packing her life up and moving on
im imagining what will it be like if she was gone
know that redhead would come more often
know that my days wouldnt be as good
know my nights wouldnt have any passion or hope
that my world would be empty

but then she comes over to me and slips hers arms round me
and all that upside down inside out backwards thinking is a lie
shes not going anywhere without me
and she whispers a soft word on my ear
baby dont you ever leave me

this is no ordinary love
this is passion

Slowing down the hour,
white widow, frosted pieces of ice.
thought provoking power,
that cheese, got us like mice.

Dew drops shined on the grass
Morning dew glistened on the fresh green shoots

……
The delicate dew drops
hung
at the very tips of
long and reaching
blades of green grass
in the warm summer sun

the dampness of night left its traces
dancing upon the crab
as the dawn glow shown across the valley

nearly translucent water particles
sat
waiting for the rays to transmogrify
their very structure
and give rise to photosynthesis
under the starshine

………….

Dum dum dum dum doobie doobie do
Dum dum dum dum dum
Doobie doobie …

Two dew drops walked into a straw shack
Rolled into a grass hut
Sauntered into an old saloon…..

The morning dew sent me spinning……

I knew we would never, ever be blue
When I looked into those eyes
Shoo-be-doobie-shoobie-doo

Our love was so pure and true
Filled with long gazes and loving sighs
I knew we would never, ever be blue

Her words of love rung, oh, so true
Puffy clouds float by in the bluest skies
Shoo-be-doobie-shoobie-doo

Each day together this love just grew
The type of love that never dies
I knew we would never, ever be blue

And the compatibility when we would *****
All up in those luscious creamy thighs
Shoo-be-doobie-shoobie-doo

Never a time I didn’t know what to do
It’s easy when you live free of mistrust and lies
I knew we would never, ever be blue
Shoo-be-doobie-shoobie-do

i have a lover like no other,
and i can't explain him.

he's a writer.
he's lighter in a pocket,
a doobie, doobie doo.

he's my flashlight,
lighting me
up like the sun's
rays.

he's an old man,
a young man,
somewhere caught
in the middle days.

twenty-four and
five-foot-eleven,
is what he says
he is,
but my god,
that isn't even
a percent of him.

he's a lion.
he's a lamb.
he leaves me in shambles.
he brings me back together.
he's my **** day camel.

wow.
i can't even write something
as perfect he.
he makes me ramble.
i'm babbling.

he's looking at me.
my heart is fluttering
like it hasn't in years.

i'm muttering even
when i'm in tears.

he can't be explained
with words or actions.

all  you can do is take him in
like the ocean,
crashing into me.

you think you know it,
but you never will.

and that is the beauty
of why i love him.

i have a lover like no other,
and i can't explain him.

I stood in the musty, off-white bathroom of the hotel and grinned at myself in the mirror. I was drunk and in my boxers. I needed to shave. Mitchell was asleep on one of the beds, snoring, a beer balanced on his ever growing beer belly. It was an impressive size for Mitchell only being 25.
He was in town for a court date. I was ecstatic when I heard, I hadn’t seen Mitchell since we were about nineteen.  I took his beer from him, set it on the nightstand, and shook his shoulder.  I said, wake up *******, come smoke a cig with me.
We stood outside freezing in the winter air, chain-smoking, watching the ****** do their rounds. Mitchell said something about finding one to score. I exhaled my smoke and snickered in reply.
“You don’t wanna stick it in ***** ******,” from behind me. Surprised, I turned around. A petite girl, puffing her non-menthol cigarette, with a slender nose and tattoos on her arms. Mitchell smartly replied that what if he did want to stick it in ***** ******. I wanted to know her name.
I asked what the hell she was doing at such a run-down hotel, why I had never seen her around town before. Between exhales she told me “I’m living with this guy but I hate him… I don’t even know what I’m doing with him.” Mitchell had gone inside. I invited her up to my room. While we walked, I studied the way her long, dyed red hair graced her plump ***. My god, that plump ***.
“I’m trying to get into some **** tonight” she said, “Are there any bars on this street?”
I was still thinking about her ***. I opened the door to our room.
“Um, I think there’s one,” I told her that we have drinks, though, and tossed her a beer.
I talked her ear off for a good hour. I can really get goin’ after a little alcohol is in me. What’s her name? I’m too drunk to remember to ask. I’ll call her red. She played with that long *** red hair and looked around a lot, antsy to…get into some ****.
“I’m not gonna *******, you know” she said.. I was taken aback by such a blunt, matter-of-fact statement.
“Oh come on,” I said, “My girlfriend’s ****** two different guys this week. I’m just trying to get even.”
“You *******!” She got up from the bed and hit me with a pillow, laughing, “You mother ******* *******!” A mouth on this one;  I liked her.
We goofed around for a bit until she suggested we walk around the hotel. We were halfway down our hallway when we saw and smelled a group of people ahead of us with a doobie. They gave the rest of it to red and invited us in their room. I met her eyes, blue, swimming in excitement and thriving in the spontaneity.
We walked into this room and met the strangest group of people I’ve ever laid my eyes on. There was a skinny, tall black boy with chains and a big bag of herb, two gothic girls with every lip piercing known to man, a preppy high school girl who kept losing her lipstick, a short black boy with a sizeable bag of white stuff; he told us to call him Doc. I think there were some more people there too.
Anyway red is chatting away with the high school girl, found out they had went to the same high school. We were sitting beside each other passing a doobie from the guy with the chains. Next thing I know, the shorter boy slaps a heaping pile of the white stuff on the table in front of red and I. Split it, he told us. That we did. Red did a few lines and sat back and closed her eyes. It was alright, she said. I did some myself. Now, I do forget whose idea it was, probably red’s. Somehow it got suggested that I do a line off her ***.  I mean she obviously had a nice ****, who wouldn’t want to snort a line of coke off a round ***?
Next thing I know, she is *** naked, face down in front of me and I’m trying not to get hard, which is difficult when you’re as ****** up as I was. The tall skinny dude was behind us, asleep, using his bag of *** as his pillow. We laughed at this. The girls smoked in the corner, and the other shorter guy watched a little too closely at me spreading the powder on reds white ***. It was as white as the substance. I couldn’t believe this girl; she won’t let me see her naked but insists I snort drugs off her bare ***.
After I was finished we all drank and smoked more, got more ****** up. Red and I eventually left and walked back to my room. Mitchell was open-mouthed snoring. I was being drunk and annoying; I rolled on top of her and just laid there. I rolled off and walked to the other side and lit a cigarette in our nonsmoking room.
“I’ll get you, you *******” she said, “You just wait!”
“Just don’t bite it off,” I said, “or you’ll make a half dozen women very unhappy.”
She climbed up to the top of the bed and perched there, cross-legged, watching the small television which illuminated her face. The news was on. Why is she so intent on the news? Now I know you aren’t sane I told her.
“Be quiet, she said, I want to watch the news!”
And there we sat at the top of a ****** hotel bed, coked out, watching the news. She held the hand with her cigarette in the air and let out a laugh. I accepted her like this.

i bet you never had
someone hit you
so hard
like a wave.

i bet you never
thought the day
would come
where someone
would be so eager
to stay.

well i can’t make
any promises,
and you can’t expect
to do the same either,
but when i look at you,
something speaks truth,
and i just gotta
tell you.

i wanna know you.
i wanna know what gets you
going like you do.
i wanna know you.
why do you do the things you
do?

on friday night,
do you like to watch horror movies?
or are you the type,
to hang with your groupies
and smoke a doobie outside?

well, i’d choose neither.
and i **** at pulling
all-nighters,
but this little song
is not about me.

hey there,
hey you,
when i look at you,
something speaks the truth,
and i just gotta tell you.

i wanna know you.
i wanna know what gets you
going like you do.
i wanna know you.
why do you do the things you
do?

they say if you ever lose
your sense of spark,
then something isn’t right.

and i can’t promise
to always be your sunshine,
but i’ll try and i’ll try
to always be the light.

if you’re in a room,
and you feel the gloom,
and nothing feels like
it’s going right,
look at me,
and you’ll see
somebody who likes

the way that you are,
the way that you do,
oh, you, hey you,
i’m digging you.

cause when i look at you,
something speaks truth,
and i just gotta
tell you.

i wanna know you.
i wanna know what gets you
going like you do.
i wanna know you.
why do you do the things you
do?

i bet you never had
someone hit you
so hard
like a wave.

i bet you never
thought the day
would come
where someone
would be so eager
to stay.

i wanna know everything.
because you’ve got that something,
that i can’t explain.

My grandfather managed the Doobie Brothers. He was a great friend of brothers Joe & Barry Doobie. 1 day, when the other Doobie brothers were having their toe nails pulled out to build pain-tolerance, my grandfather murdered 2 prostitutes. He never got caught, of course.

/Uhh, Lil Mama.. (Stop playing around wit Dat2)/2
Lil mama stop playing around wit Dat *****,..girl(give it to me2) girl..just give it..(to me2)..Yeah you got a man, but he won't ******* like I will, Noo, he can't treat you like I can,yo, Yeah, so stop playing around Lil Mama,..(stop playing wit that *****3).., Aye, Lil Mama stop playing around with (that *****3)..

/Uhh, stop playing wit that *****, stop playing around wit Dat *****,..(stop playing wit Dat3)..*****/2..
Uhh, Yeah you gotta man, but he won't  *******..like I will,..Uhh

Yeah you gotta man, but he can't ******* (like I can2).. Aye,..Uhh,..he don't treat you right so Babygirl why you with his lame ***..(girl,..let me get that *****,Yeah3), Aye, Yeah you gotta man,..forget his ***, leave him at the curb like garbage.., he won't treat you like I can, Noo he won't ******* like I will, (Noo, he can't..2)..beat it up like me..(Noo, he can't..2)..like I can baby

Uhh,..so (stop playing wit that *****3)...(give it to me, *3)..to me..Aye
/(stop playing wit that *****3)..lil mama/2
Girl let me have it, Yeah
Baby let me get it

Yeah you gotta man, but he can't ******* (like I can2).. Aye,..Uhh,..he don't treat you right so Babygirl why you with his lame ***..(girl,..let me get that *****,Yeah3), Aye, Yeah you gotta man,..forget his ***, leave him at the curb like garbage.., he won't treat you like I can, Noo he won't ******* like I will, (Noo, he can't..2)..beat it up like me..(Noo, he can't..2)..but  I can baby

Uhh, Lil mama stop being so depressed, stop being so sad, why you so mad, you wouldn't be like that if your chilling wit me..real ****,for real baby, Yeah,..you need to stop..(stop playing wit that *****2)..(let me kiss it2)..,Yeah , Baby you can lay across my chest, while I smoke on a doobie, Shawty you don't even gotta inhale it, second hand smoke yeah, Shawty, let me enter in ya..Yeah
Uhh,..just being around me is an natural high baby,..(I'm not gone play around2)..wit yo feelings, Imma play wit that *****, Babygirl, let me play wit (Dat *****2)..ain't no fussing daily, wit me, Noo baby, we just making love (all day2) (so2)..(stop playing wit that *****2)..give it to me..,(stop playing wit dat *****3)..give it up baby,to me..stop playing around baby,..

Imma (beat it up2) like eggs in the morning, Imma (eat it up,2).. like a cookie,Shawty you don't gotta have a nasty attitude all the time, ****, stop playing wit that *****,stop holding back from me, I just wanna make you smile, Uhh, I wanna make you moan baby, so stop messing around, come on baby, what's wrong (baby2)..it's that **** ***** you be wit, you act like you love him, but you don't need him, you need (a real g3)..a (***** like me2)..for real baby,..So (why you playing2)..(stop ******* around now baby2)..girl, stop ******* around wit me..Ohh, ahh, Ohhwoah..Uhh..

Imma give you my all Fo sho, we gone ball Babygirl,  Imma give you everything that you want & that you need, for real..(baybe2)..what yo heart truly desires is a real *****, like Young Ston, baby, (come on2)..bring that ***** to my home..Ohh, ahh, Ohhwoah..Uhh..
Babygirl, (stop playing wit Dat *****3)..Uhh,..you need to (stop it2)..stop playing, wit Dat *****, come on & (give it too a real g2)..Uhh..

/(stop playing2)..wit that *****/2
Ohhwoah, BabyGirl.. (Give it to me3)..forget that ***** you been wit, **** him,, leave his ***..(give it too me*2)..to me
OFTR ENT

Lithium, light they write,
Like it’s right, white delight
Striking bright, better tight:
Fine and dandy.

Glamourised in our eyes
The surprise as you rise
****** heroised,
Bitter candy.

Pump the ***, dump the dot
******* it hot, spatter spot
Sing a lot, dream but not
Craving luncheon.

Skagging sweet sweaty meat
Blisters well under heat
Take a seat, come compete,
Beating truncheon.

Vie d’artiste, or at least
Rising yeast, bubbling beast
Trickling triste down your cheeks,
Ever daring.

Rising up, sup the cup,
Acid drop, fizzle pop,
Shoobie-doo-doobie-***,
Death to caring.

Dam I need a blunt,
can't put up with this ****,
I'm fealin a new person
My heart just feals like cursin...

I've bin hear,
in this new home,
sober a new rome,
If i had my shear ****
you'd sure  would hear a cheer song.
I'd feal you out so happy,
have my words churned out to sappy?.
I'm way out,
    I'm not burned,
I get it I sure learned
far out mars rover,
spot me out like your'e lucky clover,
out in a big croud
I'm rare like a drout  cloud,
like I said,
I miss my bed,
eatin all day,
    freakin all may,
Give it a doobie a precious ****** ruby
Not lit Not fit
can-I-Just-quit?.

How bout a bubble and a bowl,?
no trouble nore parol,
you know i'm slick won't get in no ****,
just help a ***** out and ******* a hit.
  I love my jane we plan to mary
when she's gone my world gets scary..
So be it if i'm sketchy,
I'm posted monalisa ,
see me on the wall,
touch me and I'll fall,
  trust I see it all,
you walk right out the door and leave me on this floor,
I've seen it as it's low thats why I tend to flow,
Best of what I know is what minds like to show..
don't come back that lock is latched,
   holdin steady bit attatched,
I need a hook to hold me steady.
some one strong that will be ready,

I’m addicted to pain
Seems my epiphanius moment
Came a little late in the game
Just the same
What have I to gain
masochistically maintaining
Perpetual pain
Let’s see
I shut out out out everyone
Comforting like rain
Alone with my pain
Only I remain
Wrapped in the insane
Or is it just colorful choosing
Sorrowful musing so amusing
Drowning in pity
So pithy
Doesn’t do it justice
Poor, poor pitiful me
It’s plain to see
Nobody likes me
So I
Cry, cry, cry
Why
I remembered last night
The reason why
You’re going to die
The reason why
Is because
Crying said I with a sigh
always got me what I wanted
what a surprise
Guess, you guessed that
I said a little flat
So I continue to cry
And wonder why
Why isn’t this ******* working
Always worked in the past
And it was such a blast
What a shame
I’m such a crybaby
This is so personal
I think I’ll reversanal
Sounds like a pill
I’ll have two or three
Between you and me
If you know what I mean
My transparency’s my screen
Once I’ve said it
I can forget it
Put it down on paper
And it disappears
Inhaled vapor
Vapor paper
So, if you saw it
Or read it
I’ve already forgotten it
close to the cutting-edge
stretched out on a pledge
allegiance to who be
doobie, doobie do be
I’ll never fall over
That edge that I spoke of
Just a thought that I thought of
I’m no more attached to it
Than I’m attached to you
I know you believe me
Because only you see me
Through all my disguises
My mental gymnastics
Exercises
Only you see me
The lies and the *******
If you want to believe it
Go right ahead
You’ve ignored the warning signs
The tracks converged
And there’s danger up ahead
Only if you believe it
I saw the ending and I saw the beginning
Still can’t tell if I’m losing or winning.
I’m stuck, stuck, stuck
Seems only right that I repeat it
Since you can’t be stuck
If you don’t repeat it

It’s only a game if you think it is

Wishing something extreme
Before I scream
I need a push.
Who the **** am I talking to
Because nobody’s listening
But that doesn’t deter me
I see you before me
You know who you are
Anyone I want you to be
Doesn’t matter if you’re real
Only matters how I feel
You can’t stop me from loving you
Even if you don’t love me
I’ve been so alone
I rather like it like that
No mundane chitchat
******* will **** you
So if that’s what you’re offering
Better stay away
But god
I pray
May that day
Never come
And this is my prayer
That you’re real
Because until then
I can’t feel
Amen.

shakin like a bacon eater
takin down a bird feeder
cedar creatures rollin up a doobie
they be suing me for truancy
I shoo a flea from chewin me
a wrap of lettuce fed us
said us fellas sellin head amounts of coke
we oughtta **** a bowl of hope
my soap and rope fill up my closet
I deposit positively. Stop to mop it
cropping photos,potting soil,oil spotting
wrapping lettuce wraps and leftovers in foil
I'm American and spoiled

Got to string out the guitar backstage
With Ben bridwell from the Band of Horses,
Drank a beer with J. Tillman of the Fleet Foxes
With Colin Richey I had a glass of wine
And me and my band for one hour shined.
I rocked with known rockers
Follower groupies,
Not to mention or did I?
With my second string player
I smoked a magnificent doobie.
What a week it's been
Three more days
Then coming back home.
A getaway to remember
A getaway well known.

Warm in the light
I can't grip my sight
My fright
Is that last night
I lost my cool
Was a fool
And and didn't keep it tight
But hey
It's alright
I'm gonna flyin high tonight
Cause if we done it once
You best believe
We gonna do it twice

The soldiers are gone and I'm left alone. I'm lost in this big desert of lost souls. My feet are stucked and my troops are passing by with nothing to do to stop it. The darkness of the sky is beginning to arise and my soul is screaming for leaving.
My feet are beginning to move, but I got no place to go now. I'm a red eyed foreigner walking down the road the nowhere. The road where my memories are my weakest strength, and my only company. I have to use them to keep on going, and although I don't know where my path will take me, the faith for a reunion keeps my doobie lightened. I know I'll always find them above the clouds tripping in the highness of our soul.

My advice to fellow geezers?
Just say **** it!
“Roll up to the magical mystery tour!”
Just like John & Yoko!
Smoke a big fat doobie each morning.
Step out the Hogan door, just greet
The East and walk in beauty.
After a few weeks you just won’t
Give a **** anymore; just not give a ****
In general, no longer care about what’s
Not important: The Guv’ment.
Politics. The rate of unemployment.
Inflation. Even radical, freaking
Muslim Jihadist TERROR!
Yes.  Just light up, Babaloo,
Do one’s bit for the Decline &
Fall (dropped you, didn’t I?)
Let’s mourn the dying ***** goddess.
America: that shining city on a hill,
Colombia in all her senility, insolvency &
Not even D or I, just Lusions of grandeur.
Let us contemplate the decrepitude,
The crumbling, up-in-smoke spiritual infrastructure,
The USA: the United ****'s-Creek of America,
Going down, down, down . . . ALERT!
NEWS FLASH! It’s Rome & Great Britain,
It’s the update, the demise of Empire all over again.
I remember those sorry-***, pathetic Brits,
Met them all over while hitchhiking around
Europe, an intensive, closely observed tour of duty
Abroad: a gift to myself, in fact a scholarship,
I rigged for myself back in the early ‘70s.
Going abroad: once a reserved right of passage for certain,
Privileged children of the 1890s, lucky spawn from
Families known as the “Well-to-do.” And why not add:
Dubbed the “Mauve Decade" because William Henry Perkin’s
Aniline dye allowed widespread use of that color in fashion.
The "Gay Nineties,” referring to a time not of buggery, but
Merriment & optimism, & lest we forget, Twain’s “Gilded Age.”
Got the time, spare a dime, got the freaking time-frame, Mack?
It was a dark & stormy total eclipse of Jupiter.
Spiritually speaking, I was free-floating.
And what of those same-self, sad-assed &
Sorry, pathetic Brits?
Well, consider the specific years.
Experience in Europe in my early 20s,
Meant 1972, 1973 & 1974.
Surely, a time for English disillusionment,
What with the sun finally setting,
A vague, prismatic twilight time,
A virtual requiem for His or Her Majesty’s Empire,
“Rule, Britannia ... Britannia rule the waves.”
(Cue ruffles & flourishes, fifes & flugelhorns)
This was pre-North Sea Oil Bonanza days.
This was England before Mrs. Thatcher
Gave her good people a long overdue,
Richly deserved kick in the tuchas.
“The Iron Lady” they called her.
Stopped Orwell’s future, doornail dead, she did.
“Maggie’s Miracle” they called it.

Those Brits I met & knew back then,
Those “Used-to-be-Contender” types:
Self-deprecatory, apologetic & cynical,
Mocking the Union Jack,
Shedding salty tears for Lost Empire.
“This blessed plot, this earth,
This realm, this England.”
Ironic & bitter to a man,
“Gulping gin & bitters later,” observes
Current tenant occupier, 221B Baker Street,
Sherlock finding the word at last,
The definitive literary term,
That one precise mot juste, that says it all.
In a word? Sardonic.
The USA is going down, down down—
“And away goes trouble down the drain!”

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That’s right: $KA-CHING$!
An ad right in the middle of a ******* poem!
Always the sensible poet, I kept my day job.
But now in my 60’s finally figuring out:
HOW TO MAKE POETRY PAY?
Bow down to Adam Smith & Ricardo—
Not the ‘Splaine me, Cuban bandleader
Of that surname, but David, the classical economist,
The “Iron Law of Wages” guy
It’s time to make money.
Call in the Madmen.
Send in the clowns.

Mad Men – AMC - AMC.com www.amc.com/shows/mad-men Official site for AMC's award-winning series Mad Men: Games, making-of videos, plus episode & character guides.

$KA-CHING$! $KA-CHING$!

And Dan Draper: an alcoholic, chain-smoking,
***** magnet & Korean War ****-up, shifty
Name-changer, last seen at that Big Sur ashram,
The Esalen Retreat & Jingle Inspiration Center,
**** Whitman coming clean, at last:
Hovering a foot off the ground
In the lotus position, receiving **** *** from a
Coke bottle incarnation of Vishnu.

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Money: FUNGIBLE GREEN.
$KA-CHING$!

Those once sardonic Brits,
Now have Brooklyn accents.
We’re going down the drain, Babaloo!
The barbarians are at the gates,
A horde of hunger, a ******* rabble,
Green-eyed monsters, envying America’s poor,
Craving what little Uncle Sam’s indigenous poor have left,
Ragtag migrants, short, dark compañeros,
Swarthy Huns & Visigoths,
Whitman's last yawp, the last gasp breath of
Work Ethos, be it Protestant or Papist,
A colossal mélange of famine, hope & prayer,
The usual suspects: “Your tired, your poor,
Your wretched refuse & solid waste,
Your huddled, yearning masses.”
My advice to Emma--Sephardic-Ashkenazi,
Proto-Zionist, years before Herzl:
Get yourself a nightclub act, Ms. Lazarus.

America: I am hidden in a high grass savannah,
I watch the hyenas pick your carcass clean.
Adam Smith: he displaced the term greed--
Smacking as it does of deadly sin baggage—
Replaced the term Greed with Self-Interest.
And the only invisible hand I know of is
Down my pants, jerking me off,
Mesmerized by slogans, divine metaphors, like:
“A rising tide lifts all boats,” a Big Lie, for example.
Today’s economists call it “The Multiplier Effect.”
You pay me and I pay him & he pays he or she,
Merry Goes Round, Goes Round & Round the Merry-Ground.
All is just so cool & groovy,
Life is just a copacetic bowl of copacetic until
Some self-interested ****-*** decides to export
Your ******* job right out of the country:
Casus belli? Most certainly. Class warfare,
Always our hitherto history.
It’s not like that fat slob Michael Moore never warned us.

**Roger & Me (1989) - IMDb www.imdb.com/title/tt0098213/ Internet Movie Database  Rating: 7.5/10 - ‎22,470 votes Director Michael Moore pursues GM CEO Roger Smith to confront him about the harm ... Roger & Me -- Michael Moore's controversial but popular film is a highly ... Plot Summary - ‎Quotes - ‎Trivia - ‎Awards

It's my time for fun and crime,
not if hear locked up no beer?
what the hell I want to yell
I feal so stuck...
WHAT THE ****,!!!
two piece tan, uhnn
New grease man ;)
it's my summer  just what a ******!
plus I'm sober trust ineed,
I am craving for that ****,.
got a ruby trade for a doobie,
give it please! I'm on my knees :(



short, and cute,
        fiddle dee flute,

As our States go into a state of confusion
In the passing of their passing of laws
Saying now that all their fine citizens
Can freely lay out and get ******

As a matter of fact haven't they been doing that
For years if my minds working correctly
I guess the difference now when they lounge around
They can freely puff on it legally

So let's all take the bongs out of hiding
And add some fresh liquid to it
Invite over the neighbors you've never talked to
To share in a neighborly spliff

It'll certainly make everyone happy
When we come together and roll up a fatty
Don't worry if to this party your a newbie
Here take a hit off this doobie

We'll order out pizza
And crank up Netflix
Watch My Little Pony
And laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and...

Wait...now where was I? Oh Yea!

So let's take all the bongs out of hiding

Hold on...have I already said that?
Dude, this is freaking me out!  Lol!

Oh okay, here we go...

You can now grow your own
On your very own farm
But instead of deep in the woods
It can now be your front yard

Of course all the neighbor kids
You'll have to watch
As they pass by your place
And pick from your crops

So then you'll have to invest
In a scary guard dog
To keep them at bay
And out of your plot

But of course you'll be ******
And forget that he's there
Where he'll end up hungry
And start eating his share

There goes your profit
There goes your crop
Plus all the time you'll spend behind the dog
With a baggy waiting for doggie do do drops

But then again the government
May not let you grow your own stuff
As you wait for the F.D.A.
To authorize all your drugs

And we all know when you get
The government involved
Bureaucratic common sense
Too often gets lost

Maybe this legalization thingy
Is not the best of ideas
Things seemed to run smoother
When we all kept our *** hid

“Better than working in a factory.”
Truer words were never spoken while
Smoking a big fat *doobie.
For Doug Clifford & John Fogerty
It was a motto; an anthem.
Creedence always respected &
Loved the workingman.
Working stiffs know--
They know in their bellies--
That Republicans are good for the
Proles, here in Oceania,
Good in particular for the building trades.
I recall a distant mob of
Swarthy plumbers & carpenters,
Electricians & masons,
A toolshed parliament & all-purpose
Construction industry trade show;
So many, many Italian family
Weddings & funerals attended . . .
Sometimes my residual blue-collar instincts
Show up during the most inappropriate,
White-collar times. But I digress.

Which brings us down memory lane
This evening, as in “Good-DEEVE-ning,”
Welcome aboard the Hitchcock Railroad.
(Stage whisper: If I have to explain it,
You’re outside my demographic age cohort,
And a member of a pointless throng of green,
Still-wet-behind-the-ears,
Presumptuous whippersnappers.)

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And now that I have your attention:
Consider the current national stage:
A media circus, a minstrel & medicine show,
H.L. Mencken’s last *******,
Give us our daily bread.
It’s August 27th, 2016.
We’ve survived back-to-back
Republican-Democrat Political Party
U.S. Presidential nominating conventions.
I’ve caught you smack yabba-doo-dabba
In the middle of this Trump-Clinton
Full-press, traveling Reality Show Cavalcade.
In short, I’ve caught you at a good time,
Perhaps receptive, somewhat, for a:
Nixon Retrospective.*

I submit that without doubt,
The most stunningly democratic gesture
Of our generation to wit: replacing the
College deferment loophole with a
Blind, dumb-luck Vietnam Draft Lottery.
You can thank Richard Nixon,
Milhous of that name,
Our much maligned 37th President.
The only RESIGNEE in history,
Run outta town on a rail,
Convicted without bail.
Set adrift without sail.
(How you wish I’d **** this
Wretched rhyme scheme.)

Yes, you can thank Tricky **** for
Sticking it to the Bush Family
And their inherited-wealth neighbors--
Riparian souls one & all--along the quaint
Long Island Sound, New England seashore.
Surely my Brooklyn working class roots,
Demand I salute and snap to, attention.
Hail to the Chief, Babaloo!
Mr. Nixon still has my vote.
He tackled big problems: nuclear arms,
Diplomacy with China, Vietnam,
The Economy (can you frickin’ believe a
Republican got away with
Wage Freeze & Price Controls?)
Not to mention The Environment:
Slap! BAM! Soupy Sales:
“I told you not to mention *THAT!
But you knee-jerking libs out there,
Must remind yourselves that
President Nixon created the EPA &
Signed the Clean Air Act.
Think about it next time your
Nixon-Watergate gag reflex kicks in.

i like you a lot
like maybe more than mary jane..
and she's my main
***** because when I'm with her
I can't remember the definition of the word ******
but I'm nervous for this fervor you stir in me
when i laugh with you i don't need ****
and that's crazy coming from
miss wake and bake
lunch break light up
dinner doobie
and don't forget the late night blunt ride
but you make me feel so high
my cheeks hurt and my stomach bursts
with butterflies sometimes i forget to eat
because I'm too busy staring into your baby blue eyes
my heart dances in my chest even worse than when i have anxiety
but it's different
i gave you my heart on a silver platter
but pulled it away the second i had a hint you may not deserve it
and that made both of us feel worse than
when your **** shattered

i wrote you a lil sumthin i hope you dont mind me reading i thought of you today , this hurt me very deeply. there once was a time i thought you'd never leave me lemme know if im wrong but lately ive been thinkin
over on how i was so ignorant, **** you had me fooled yeah i was convinced n now this achin pain inside my chest has become an old friend n i dress myself w a smile i still play pretend
in the end that may be pathetic but ******* aint it the truth youve left my heart all black and blue i got many scars to match these wounds n is it possibly to be so beautifully bruised? n i mean this pains a reminder, you were once always there n w your symphonic soul i swear you ****** cared  but even at your lowest high i want you n your corrupted mind.

n here dear ive gathered a couple questions id really like to share you dont gotta answer no you dont even have to care but baby do you think of me now and then like i think of you? i mean ive had quite a few drinks n its aboutta quarter till 2 but you see my altered brain doesnt change my subconscious truth because at the end of each day my heart keeps beating for you. but youll ash me off , again and again , no worries though i know im nothing to sweat and im just waitin for the day ill wake without you inside my head. but you know truth be told thats not how this hear works ill look into those eyes again and revisit all my hurt. n im inconclusive of which evil is worse.

people tell me each n everyday not to let this world make me small but im only 5'1 yo i was never really tall n ya'll can keep on talkin **** on my style cause your words cant steal my smile. but im always questionin how much more can i even take daddys sick of seeing tears fall off this pretty face. iv been rollin on my own feelin so out of place i got so many fears im so unsure of my fait this future image isn clear n im sorry i cant be who i was past years. im changin yeah ***** a changin so are the dreams so are the demons i know ive grown cold but ive got my ****** reasons. this ***** gotten old my filthy conscious is a constant bleedin but i guess i must accept whats been placed upon my plate you were just another phony who couldnt relate n i guess thats your luck n my ****** mistake.

it was a foolish thing but quite beautiful too. those last words left a sting yeah im pretty bruised n now im hopin that this melody will relieve some pain inside the wounds because its a tragic thing a tragedy thats what i can conclude, thats why i smoke **** so i can be elude fill these lungs with smoke hopin highs will get me through hoping somehow i can cope rolla doobie maybe 2 laugh cause lifes a ****** joke i hung my neck inside a noose. maybe ill jus ****** choke ive been pullin on them ropes. n now im spittin fire so hot haydes jottin notes i got the devil askin for tips, baby ima make it n im gonna make it big. but they tellin me to start but idk where to begin.

so many bad moments followed by worse emotions when will it end? im hightenin the doses cause **** ive given it.  just walkin thro the motions less alive n mostly dead. doors just keep on closin im hungup with my regrets n these demons wont let me forget bad intentions, their why i havent slept. countless broken promises i can never mend thats why i do what i do so i can feel closer to death.
n now youve all been askin whats up inside my head, well your not gonna like the answer your about to get. evils on my ****** conscious. its clutterin my brain that must be the reason im so inmuthafuckinsane. always ****** w bad **** n even worse people stuck inside a trip soaked in all the evils but everything i spit is venomous that ****** lethal n even if i overdose ima cop a sequal cause im so invincible tearin up traditional principals
yaaa im so ******* illll hopefully ya'll catch this sickness
so busy making some bills
honey moneys on my wishlist
and homies know this
i always gotta sack of that purple potent
n now im on a mission lookin for that purple potion
put my mind ina wavy motion im a constant floatin.
n now my parents are makin a commotion

cierra baby just get off the ****** drugs
sorry mom im crazy yeah im really ******* nuts.
this mind is fully corrupt. the world ****** it like a ****.

The corner house
Has three missing fence planks,
So the boys got their short-cut
Across the front lawn.
It was three a.m.,
I saw them, I yelled from the window,
Hey guys. Stop that!
They tossed their cans onto the asphalt.
Her bedroom light came on;
They were the night.
I heard their hurried pace,
Their laughter like warning fog horn blasts.

Butch's mother next door died.
It was a year before I knew.
I thought she went to Florida.
I pictured her sitting in the sun.
But she was gone.
Butch shovels snow,
Obsessively.
That's what I know.

The doobie brothers
Live next to the cop.
Their driveway's a busy spot with comings,
And goings.
But the cop's part of our hood,
Disrection's understood.
Besides,
Officer Bob has his troubles to tend to.

Then there's small Mary,
She lives two doors down.
She has to be over a hundred,
Once lived on a farm.
She rakes debris with her hands,
Bent over for hours,
Cleaning her lawn.
     (Butch shovels her walkway,
     but stays to himself)
I've waved to Mary
When she's out and about.
Good to see you, I shout.
Nice to be seen, she replies.
No doubt.

There is a group of us that like hip hop too
we smoke ****
we play blackjack
and laugh
really we're just like you.

Sorry if we are misleading,
because Rosie did say that we look just like punks
but I had my twisted mind set on being unconventional
and I didn't mean to startle you
but it's just the way I am.

Memories are on replay of listening to our favourite jams
and you asked in the morning if I wanted jam on my toast
but I just asked you to pass me the doobie -
oh, and I'll have a cuppa please
that would be a nice combination.

We had bloodshot eyes after a wild night out
I think we stayed up for two days,
and although my head was half shaved
we were just like you.

Our cliques could have mixed because really
we are all the same.

Grandson unlike most of humanity
enjoys the sound of my singing
so together we make up songs.
He at ten weeks with green eyes,
jug ears and the occasional goofy smile
is an honest audience though a toothless critic
who frowns upon hard consonants
but relishes lengthy vowels:

        la la-la la la-la la, la la-la la
        la! la! la la-la
        ooo ooobie  
        ooo!
        be doobie doo
        green eyes, green eyes, green eyes, green,
        green eyes, green eyes, green eyes, green…

Who needs radio? I compose, he edits,
new melodies fill the room,
perhaps only we two can understand.
Don’t listen.

Here I sit with bile in my throat and music fading in my ears.
Once again trying to find the right words to make it better
This time I'm afraid there's no way to make it better only to explain
I'm slipping away, becoming who I left behind years ago
It's like a drug, watching the world turn into blurry chaos.
Just this morning I'd ****** up beyond belief before six am.
Passing out drunk on my front porch, waking up to my keys in hand.
Wondering how I got from across town to here and how long it'd been.
Climbed into my bed and faded away to longing thoughts of you.
I wake up to a pounding in my head and fuzzy memories of the night before
I remember taking my first shot of fire water and the burn it left in my throat.
One shot turning into a couple, my four loko getting lighter and grabbing her *** outside
Doing more shots of fire water and jack daniels, eating nachos so I could drink a little more
She went to bed and he took me outside, he kissed me against the car
My protest falling silent against his slightly sweet lips, bittersweet lips
Stumbling out back, trying to clear my head and his hand hovering to catch me if I fell
Asking if he liked getting hit by her, if he liked the way she treated him, what made her so special
His answer hot and hungry against my lips, I remember wishing you had the same passion
The guys laughing from inside the garage, laughing at us, his sigh in my ear
Dropping the doobie, looking for it and finding myself face first in the dirt laughing
Walking off trying to get away before I drank anymore, walking down the street
His voice, calling me back to the house, his hand grabbing mine and telling me I was safe
Telling him I wasn't that I wanted to go to the park, that Daddy would meet me at the park
Him saying Daddy would meet me at my house on friday but that I had to come back inside
The last thing I remember is hearing her sobbing, saying that I'm her best friend, that I was too drunk
Then I woke up on my porch, cold and holding my keys for dear life, he must have dropped them off.
All I can remember now is how much I love you, how much I want us to work, how much you care
You are my rock, my drug, my sense to this world. Without you I just mess it up.

If I could change one day in my past,
It'd be the day my boots beat the path,
So I wonder, how it could be,
If my gypsy soul never touched my feet.

I had a lady and she loved me so,
But the road you know it owns my soul,
So I wonder, how it i could be,
If my gypsy soul never touched my feet.

Dont fall in love with us travelin' kids
We'll break your heart as we leave with the wind,
So I wonder, how it could be,
If I could love a little longer than the season of spring.

Maybe if I was a better man,
But now I sit here wonderin' if I can go on
Yea I gatta keep on

And you should know I'm the king of bones
I'll rip out your spin so I can stand on my own.
Once I'm in, I'll tear you apart.
Leave you naked, bruised up, cut up, and exposed in the dark.

I've got my cigarettes I've got my ****,
All to keep my feelings under me,
In the mirror I see empty eyes,
So I roll myself a doobie and I look towards the sky.

The consequences of my wanderlust.
Are tears from the faces I have touched,
To my friends, Im sorry I'm gone,
I'm doin well.

If theres a welcome Ive over stayed it,
American dreams are overrated,
Sun sets up on mountain tops
thats where you're ganna find me.

I've got no money got no land to defend.
My journey will never come to an end.
Sun sets up on mountain tops
Thats where you ganna find me.

My gypsy soul and me.

Without a home,
And doomed to roam.

but right as it ends
iran goes
i think they gonna crack
its goes one
two bombs
three bombs
four
everybody listen
and frankly
mitt romney
that cats a ******
a ****** in his mind
he may be slightly
slightly insane
but i guess he's what some call the best
and i disagree
*** this mans just a modern form of a ****.
he has no chivarly
he's got the dollar on his back
some sort of corporate greg jennings
enough about romney
we all know he's a just a piece ****
enough about about the bomb
we all know the worlds going to ****
and as were standing in the sun burning a doobie
and as were standing in the sun basking in the beauty
revelations on the mind
its never withstanding
staring at the world from high above
look and see what you've made me do
standing in the shadows
giving my love

Summertime Alaska
Sky lift up to the moon
Thick cold ice mold, depends on a boom
Wannasy the universe expand in your room?
Can't breathe on your knees, escape from the gloom.
Spaceship to the world never mind what you see
It's what they hide in the cage, according to me
As they stare from a distance laugh in their face
Were on the moon man floating through outer the space
Don't kiss then tell this is all that we have
A deep crew of assassins in a pimped out van
No seats but a rug and it's designed for Abu
We're defying and implying almost all of the rules
Keep it beepin like a monitor eye's to the sky
We don't really like thermometers
Ice in the pi
This is Lithium iron I call it Kurt Cobain
Li Fe for the dreary insane
As the drip turns to pride
Just lay back in the plane
Not a jet but dimensions deep in your brain
In the light of a spectrum cleverly made
Mr. Cudi's got the sidy down right to the base
In the language it is written from the A to the G
With an E emphasizing future theories to be
I'm an MC they like to call me D-A-N
I'll be breathing in the Crush
Sitting Squared in a Van
Melancholy and Serene while I'm rolling the loud
Sound melts like the doughnut's that roll on the ground
Livid, mister fog pouring out like a boom
I'm a twister of the doobie and pearl's resume
And the chain is insane its ******* gold like an arch
I'll be passed out cold from the ember's to march
and a number that we wrote like a song
Deception is a 9 and a number that we wrote like a song
And a number that we wrote like a song
A number that we wrote like a song
We wrote like a song
Like a song

Sitting in the basement
Two friends were fairly wasted
With an idea, both of them could taste it
So they decided they would make it

They tried to pull up the internet
With a computer not even turned on yet
So they smoked another doobie and
Came up with a master plan

When the internet finally did come on
They Googled how to make an "H" bomb
They giggled like silly teenage girls
Cause the knew they'd be rulers of their world

They wish they'd studied more in school
This "H" bomb language wasn't written for simple fools
So they called up someone smart they knew
They called Bob

Well Bob was just right down the street
Always there to help a friend in need
Even came with his own bag of ****
Bob is a good friend indeed

After an hour or so they tried to explain
What they needed from good ole what's his name
But couldn't remember why it was he even came
I guess **** just made the world a safer place