"ganja" poems
Deep in da hart of da reggae junga
da reggae king want lots a *****
he smoke da herb till his eyes cherry
Not a care in da world he wont worry
He probly should hes to loose
wit tha women he always loose
he got da clap, ***** and da ***
it always hurt when he p
So take a lesson from da ***** king
his fans found out and they clipped his wing
he has power no more and he better flee
because he only da king of da ***
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
When I was small enouf to **** da ****** of me mother (13),
I found da great sensation of da *****
Me uncle Batius make me a sandwich every day,
He know dat I like a da strong cheese,
So he put it in everytime,
I did not know dat da cheese was gangja smoke til much lata,
I neva undastood wy it make me so happy,
until
I *** yo *****
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
I had a dream I smoked some ***** with a Rasta Man
while we jammed in the name of the lord to some tunes
the children of Africa roaming free like wild beast
once the cradle of civilization turned into tombs
by the ungrateful, heathen souls that ran amok
in the name of annihilation and war.
But we are fearful pious men, as we inhaled the herb
the grass is the shepherd that nourish us like Giraffes
the sky is the ceiling that we reach with our blessed hands
the rivers gives us skins like Crocs to be able to survive
harsh whether, the blood-stained desert left behind by men
witnessed by the pale eyes of the torture souls of this land.
And so we inhaled and puffed like chimneys in a North Pole night
we talked about the smiles of our seeds stretching far and wide
how beautiful is a voice when it’s brought to life by a loved one
how the scent of a pure woman can bring the dead back to life
deadlocked, we are dreadlocked like grapevines until Jah lets us
the mental slavery that keeps us chained to the ships of our ancestors.
We never once conversed about the frail indignity of the mortals
the uselessness of hate, the ways material possessions can’t help you
we reached Nirvana without taking our feet off the common ground
we shared a spirit, bonded between long hits made of peace and love
in the freedom of those free thinkers tinkering with words without rest
in the children of Jah, daydreaming at night in a warm bed made of bread.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
Reggae night, rasta night,
Blunts are rolled, tru de night.
Round young spliffs, rolled so tight,
***** and ****** hit me so right.
Smoke in heavenly peace,
Smoking in heavenly peace.
Reggae night, rasta night,
Island boy, raised up right.
Radiant beams from thy holy ****
All night long, we be singin' dis song.
Poundin' dat kush so hard,
Pounding that ****** so hard.
Reggae night, rasta night,
Slappin' de bass, it's quite a sight.
Kush smoke climbs to de heavens above
Jaco greens out, Hallelujah.
Reggae the Savior is born,
Rasta the Savior is born.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
It was night
There were no clouds in the sky,
Just stars in the black sea.
Noise spilled through the doors of the bar.
Outside the Brass Rail people with alcohol in their system
And the ***** in their lungs crowd the 49 highway.
In the middle of the road,
Where the white and yellow lines run parallel,
A wild smiling girl sets the triangle of bowling pins.
A ways down the highway line, a smiling man with blond dreadlocks
Swings his arms back and forth, ready to threw the ball.
The wild girl moves, the man throws his ball, the crowd cheers, trucks honk,
And the pins are hit!
Everyone jumps in the air, everyone claps and whistles,
And the game starts over again.
Bowling on highway 49 in North San Juan, California.
These wild free spirits are my friends.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
Coming from the shadows a six armed samurai,
Followed closely by glowstick wielding neon ninji,
Grips of *** swigging pirates swing from the rafters,
Swallowed alive by blacklight monsters,
Gangs of ***** smoking gurus,
Armed to the teeth with translucent didgeridoos,
Monks parade in swirling vestments,
Whilst the shaman trip in lotus testament,
Gods transfixed by blood tear beauty,,
As humanity’s heroes slay bejeweled dragons,
The king with two faces is beheaded,
By his charlatans, harlequins, fools and jesters,
Chaotic, prophetic killers run amok,
The order of lunatics chant as the time is struck,
A battle royale then follows,
As robots and aliens envelope,
Brilliant beams and whirring mechanics,
Clash with steel, rock, bone and sticks,
Screams from the heads of the thieves,
As their brains are devoured by zombies
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
Dancing dark eyes---
darting ***** bees
that come flying
seeking nectar from my lips,
in a quest that goes beyond the limits.
You are the scented wind
with salacious intent
from billowing ***** fields
wildly grown in Western ghat mountain ranges,
that are in full bloom.
You twist and swirl,
lift me up
and take to the golden cloud
that has a mystic spell
where my mind rejoices,
beyond the binding of time
in Shiva's dance,
while his consort Shakti resonates
with every beat of the divine drum
that echoes my heart.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
Here's a little story I tink you'll like.
It's not bout' two shmucks looking for amour.
It's all bout' me, my life, and my big fat bluntz.
Imma bout' to tell ya what Reggae's for.
Reggae stands for peace and the luv in yaself.
It's bout' them spankable honies and big fat beatz.
It's bout' sweet **** chicken and otha tasty stuff.
It's bout' that dank smell of ***** fillin' da streetz.
Reggae's da warm sensation from a fresh beef patty.
It's the chill rub-a-dub sound of dat Marley noize.
It's the Jamaican sun spreadin light on ya gurl's curves.
It's the dutty jammin ya get in to witcha dazy rond-boys.
My life is Reggae. Reggae is my life
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
***** be burnin'
Reggae be movin' me hard
Smokin' dat dank herb
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
As Captain Jack kisses of the last roach
Lavender's in the boathouse window shouting that she's grown wings that she's gonna fly
over Old Casey's boat above the painted lake past where the music surrounds
permeates with the pulse of noise
Green Hat pulls me over says my name is Corey
or Kelsey
Kelly's a **** name I tell him back home people call me Blow
Enter Tennessee the cinnamon sipping reds smoking sonofagun
Are you Kevin?
I ask the fingers that familiar flight of touch leading me
down and
down and
down towards our game
"Never have I ever" howls the young Indian chief, scarf draped in madness
the fearless warrior Peepeeohpee
Someone has trapped the moon behind the window the house on the hill someone has fed the fire with its secret light
This stranger this enigma this Laura I am her cousin
and everyone I touch is Kevin
Then with the sun Tittas steps off the boat as Jesus
sacred palms slashed from last night's ritual
Bums a cig from Drew or Not Drew with the thousands out west and the lotus flower arms
Floats on her back French exhales
As I look at our feet stained red with ink all slow spirals soft wind ***** flowers
then to the shore the fireflies still dancing through the dawn
Flying high
Secretly praying to each outshine the fade
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
Her greatest fear was
going color blind,
invoking domino effect,
she embraced rainbow colors-
whenever a chance she found.
Now, she walks at the front
as if she is the official bearer of colors
in our frenzied blueberry hunt,
up in the high ranges of Western Ghat's
tropical rain forests.
Our nostrils are special,
"colors we see, make us madly sing"
chants rend the air when-
fragrance of ***** blooms wafted in the air.
"Just like the smell when python opens mouth"
said a voice, to the uninitiated,
"Quit white, paint everything coal black,
or is it the other way round?"
"This place is magical can't make a choice"
"Look! I found a serious irregular lake down there"
"I didn't realize I was walking in rounds, around a closed mall"
"White light is a cheat, pixie laid us is in the village green"
"Y'll fall down"
"Green was what i asked for
got thick,red, gooey mud"
"Why panic?"
"Hey meet Mr.Yellow smile,
kiss him a pretty, magenta
***** thought, good night"
"I've a deep blue psyche,
in nightmares I see ***** whales"
"Wounded bleeding heart,
she was nursed back to health
it beats me,
she limped back to her old green monster"
"Hear that distant drums?
brick red monster of the woods
mating with a black cat"
"A ritual of the tribes?
is it meant as a crude joke?"
Sitting under a tree shade,
I hear for the first time in my life,
a white ant's dark wintry song,
lilting, it spoke about the life
as the queen ant's *** slave.
**"Hey love this ***** magical feat,
anything is possible,
how reality takes a beat"
**** it, three times over,
on the bank of the river, then in water.."**
"Blue grass, blue grass
sing all the way up to the mountain pass,
where ***** plants grow thick like ***** thoughts,
a nightingale in funky dress
singing ***** songs and regale all"
"That lush lass, her hair tied with a red bandana
is a smart *** **** her"
Someone screams in delight,
evening spreads a magical light,
more laughter, catcalls,
the sassy chick just LOL
Pass..pass
A big headstrong hornbill, surveying the scene,
gives a mating call
the hillside reverberates with its sound.
(C) K.Balachandran
[email protected]
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 7:19 AM UTC
Yo,Mr Putin
(from da ganja-boys)
Yo, Mr Putin, I'm sending you a present.
It's just a bunch o'herbs, to smoke;
they'll make yer less unpleasant.
Smoke 'em in de evening,
to really chill yo brain.
They'll blow away the nasty thoughts,
you have about Ukraine.
I'm sure you're gonna like 'em,
it's the Rasta, in yo blood;
we may be cousins, way back.
You should join us, in the 'hood!
You can't deny it Vladimir,
there's really no disputin';
your ancestors are same as mine
-we've all heard of Ras-Putin.
Briz 8/4/14
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
Me love agony, seen?
Me hate baldheads, seen?
Me love collie, seen?
Me hate duppies, seen?
Me love easing up, seen?
Me hate fishes, seen?
Me love ***** seen?
Me hate harbour sharks, seen?
Me love "irie's", seen?
Me hate janga, seen?
Me love kush, seen?
Me hate lagga heads, seen?
Me love mateys, seen?
Me hate nyng'i-nying'i, seen?
Me love o-dokono, seen?
Me hate passa passa, seen?
Me love quashes, seen?
Me hate running belly, seen?
Me love science (witchcraft), seen?
Me hate toto, seen?
Me love uptown goodas, seen?
Me hate vixxin', seen?
Me love wheels, seen?
Me hate da yout, seen?
Me love Zion, seen?
Me fuckin' love Zion
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
The walking dead fill these streets
Hollow eyes and empty minds
Cluelessly they shamble on
Knowing nothing of *****
Herb is my liberator
I find freedom in the kush
One ****** puff sets me free
My chains are broken by ****
Babylon consumes our minds
Men walk like zombies entranced
If everyone had a spliff
All the world would be at peace
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
You’re so dumb It’s like someone hit you with a brick
I have a PHD that means pretty huge ****
***** so hot itll make you fly
I killed your mama and then she died
So what you learned are two things
my thing is big and your moms now ded
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
****** up paddy's weekly binge,
did nothing for poor mary's twinge.
she quelled her urge with robbie rasta,
who smoked the weed,and **** was faster.
the ***** guru jumped with fright,
yo husband early home tonight.
don't ye worry, stay in bed,
the fockers ****** right off his head.
mary, mary, the drunkard bleats,
der is tree people beneath dees sheets,
shot op ye dronk i am no cheat,
get outa bed an count the feet,
sorry me darlin, der's only four,
staggered to the bathroom door,
where ye goin? what ye thinkin?
to wash me feet, they're fockin stinkin.
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 12:00 PM UTC
When something perturbs me to such a point
I have to step back and take the whiff of realization
The opposite of one that ***** smokers take
The puff of fresh air
The one that heals instead of one that stays stagnant
And become the mouthpiece of optimism
Because God could of put me somewhere far more hellish than this
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
You leave that dismal room
And walk
Past open doors
And broken clock
Down dingy corridors
You creep
While strangers
In strange rooms find sleep
You walk on carpet
Stained and fading
Designs all ruined
Yet not abating
Out where the housekeeper’s
Cart is parked
Her smile sunken
Her manner dark
She emerges from
Behind a stack
Of ***** blankets
Folded back
With broken teeth
And burdened eyes
Wrinkles worn
In plain disguise
Someone’s daughter
Whittled down
Her hair too thin
Along her crown
Yet harboring
A warmth untouched
Her shattered image
Says too much
Windows open
On a courtyard scene
Junkies nodding
In the sun serene
High altitude
Of Denver streets
Smell ***** smoke
And searing meats
In Civic Park
The men that stare
Sell rough-cut gems
Which slice the air
One calls you over
With his hand
More incantation
Than command
Says that he’s got
Just what you need
With eyes now begging
To be freed
You walk away
And in his strife
He calls to you
“I’ve lived my life!”
With eyes as dark
As afghan hash
He fades away
As you move past
In distant vistas
Where the Rockies lie
You hear that unknown
Ancient cry
You feel the motion
You must move on
The mountains are calling
The city is gone
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
Who are you to wave your finger?
Ya' must have been out your head.
Eye hole deep in muddy waters,
You practically raised the dead.
Rob the grave, to snow the cradle
then burn the evidence down.
Soapbox, house of cards and glass,
so don't go tossin' your stones all around.
You must have been high.
You must have been high.
You must have been-
Foot in mouth, and head up *******
what'cha talkin' 'bout?
Difficult to dance 'round this one
'til you pull it out, boy;
You must have been so high.
You must have been so high.
Steal, borrow, refer, save your shady inference.
kangaroo done hung the juror with the innocent.
Now you're weeping shades of cozened indigo
Got lemon juice up in your EYE!
When you ****** all over my black kettle
You must have been HIGH, HIGH
You must have been HIGH, HIGH
Who are you to wave your finger, so full of it?
Eyeballs deep in muddy waters, fuckin' hypocrite.
Liar, lawyer, mirror; show me:
What's the difference?
kangaroo done hung the guilty with the innocent.
Now you'll weep
or change the cozened indigo;
got lemon juice up in your high-eye,
when you ****** all over my black kettle
You musta been!
So who are you to wave your finger?
Who are you to wave your fatty fingers at me?
You must, have been, out your, mind!
Weepin' shades of indigo
shed without a reason
weepin' shades of indigo
Liar, lawyer, Mirror for ya,
what's the difference?
kangaroo be ******
he's guilty as the government
Now, will you weep
or, change the cozened indigo;
got lemon juice up in your, EYE!
EYE!
Now when you ****** all over my black kettle.
You musta been HIGH, HIGH, HIGH, HIGH.
Eyeballs deep in muddy waters
Your ***** deep in muddy waters;
***** p-lease!
You must have been out your
MIND!
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 5:03 AM UTC
i smoke the ****** people take a wiff
i cant tie ma shoes but i can *** yo *****
i walk that streets wit my boombastic reggae styl
we go to ma doops bungaloo and he says *** and stay a while
we find some bittys wit a fat *** and tell them theat they fine
they say we're creeps witout jobs we say they need some wine
turns out they werent down to *** like an assembly line
tired i go home down tha empty reggae street
i light tha **** i light tha spliff till i cannot feel my feet
a car puls up i drop my cup they say to get in the backseat
im ****** about the cup it had my last brew and i want to drop a **
i owe them money i have none they brake ma kneecaps what fun
they throw me out the car, away i scurry
she got a big ***** so i call her big *****
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
I don't know, I... I can't describe it
I just wish your feet didn't move you to my door
I wish the ***** didn't burn so hot in me after
that little big fight
Now my lips keep ******* my tears
on words with "had I know"
.
I wish the liquor store had closed before that hour
Or better still, the bottle disposed
But it happened so fast that I lost my myself to another self
My anger met jealousy, like fire unionised with gasoline
I don't know, I... I... I can't des... Or maybe do I understand now
.
You were the page in my diary I tore
And the coin that slip of my pocket in the rain
Well, I'll wipe my tears away
For after just one gunshot I will be there to give you my apologies
(BANG!)
.
{the poet that stinks with lines⚟}
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
I burn ***** and write poetry
Some call those addictions
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
I saw a Bengal tiger
in Eureka, California
Sadly, they had not “found it.”
In a place kept afloat by something ephemeral as ***** smoke
A cage, not more than twenty feet long
by twelve feet wide
Held power in check
But a few steps away
He or she
they did not say
played with a round pillow in front of us
crushed it with a mighty paw
like one of our skulls might be
If we came upon her
a frightened ape
in the steaming green jungles
of the part of the world
Where Kolkata rests
on Kali’s Ghat
The city of creative Destruction
Where millions eat
sleep and **** in polluted air
and brush their teeth with their fingers
at the gushing water
of a communal fountain
Where milky sweet chai
in a small clay cup
costs two cents
provided with a smile
and allows the man to turn a profit
In a way, I understand why we did it.
It is great to see such a grand thing so close
Orange fur and black stripes
beauty clothing strength
And the fear of it.
Without metal bars
vertical iron rods of power
I would be nothing but a warm
squishy snack
My head as useless as a coconut
Skull only a shell for the meat inside
My legs, fast as they are,
Would amount to only drumsticks
Yet is it not best
to leave such powerful beauty be?
It is a great arrogance that chains
such a powerful thing
For the benefit of ****** poets,
old couples, and howling children
Selling the soul of a wild beast
Second by second
glimpse by glimpse
for the price
of a fairground ticket.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
I'm back, you rowdy rond boys.
Got me rowdy rond rhymes, and me rowdy rond noize.
Kick back in me ol' spot, smokin' me spliff.
Sit up in me chair when I hear a sweet riff.
It's Marley on da bass, slappin like he do
Head bangin' back and forth like ya know ya want to.
Reggae is back and me life in on track.
Got baeties in the penthouse and they cookin' up crack.
Can't believe me stopped writing. It was hard to say no.
But I'm back to smokin' mo' ***** than ever befo'.
Me poetry's like sirup, open ya mouth, and I'll pour it.
It's clever, it's dank, it's reggae. I'm glad for it
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC