"marihuana" poems
Fire, Fire, Babylon shall retire
Mind invasion shall expire
Them ghetto youth we shall inspire
Guide and protect them as them acquire…
A full overstanding of a materialization,
Conquering our souls' conception
Peace upon the mind opens doors to realization
That fi ah ghetto youth's materialism be them destruction.
Free your mind, pure thy soul and free thyness from hate
Babylon wickedness shall encounter its fate
Heavens are open for those who livicate
Them souls in vision to reach the holy gate.
Marihuana elevate I and I to be self-conscious
Jah people we forever righteous
Babylon can search and conquer, them never find us
Jah shall protect us from everything malicious.
Hail King Selassie for his pure wisdom
In holy Mount Zion shall we find our freedom
Jah do save us, Babylon is taking us at random
Rise Rasta rise, the system can never shut us down.
Pretty soon we shall all share the peace and joys
It’s all a matter of internal choice
Right up Mount Zion shall Babylon perish from our anointed voice
Oh yes Babylon...in heaven we shall all rejoice.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
My car is on the fritz
My girlfriend has the flu
My boyfriend can't talk to me
What am I to do?
I don't want marihuana
I don't want to drink
It's dead on Hello Poetry
What am I to think?
I'd listen to some music
Or maybe just chill out
I don't want to know
What the heck it's all about
Why should I be bored?
There are still the stars
I can play connect-the-dots
From Jupiter to Mars!
My lil 'magination
Is just like kodakrome
I can leave my body
Let my spirit roam...
But I'm just too lazy
It's all too much to take
So I guess I'll raid the fridge
And eat left-over cake.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
oh... so now i know where my
"st. vitus'" take on sporadic,
uncontrollable dance routines
took place:
drunk, i attempted to
whistle...
each and every time i attempted
to whistle...
i burst into a fire and fury
of laughter, as if i waa hearing
political satire!
every single time i'd try to whistle:
giggles...
a bit like watching
the laws surrounding marihuana,
on a friday evening
lodged in amsterdam...
asking myself:
am i here for the ****
or the puerto rican plumps
of pork chops still breathing
with a 17th century fetish
for excesses?
perhaps neither...
perhaps both...
i'll have heiny ec-ken
(bite of a buttocks)
nekken -
(bite of the neck):
huh!?
i really expected
matthew mcconaughey
to be much taller, in real life,
let alone the oscars' ceremony.
i.e. is that a ******
or a ******* leprechaun?
no good trying to whistle,
when all you can do
in "return" is to giggle at the attempt, to.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 8:13 PM UTC
Sad pretty girls,
Doing ecstasy
Just to escape from reality.
Seven blunts,
In
Seven inch pumps.
And
Poppin' pills
In
High heels.
Trap
Hip hop
Trance
And
Reggae.
Getting high
To
Euphoric music.
"eat me out
'til I'm no longer
Stressed out"
Smoking marihuana,
Hoping
It'll cure the bulimia.
Three C's,
Coffee
*******
Caviar,
Show up to the party
In high fashion.
Sad pretty girls
Go to the bathroom together to
Snort lines
And
Smoke marihuana
In the handicap stalls.
There's an empty hole inside
Sad pretty girls' soul
That they fulfill with drugs
To become
Happy pretty girls.
And maybe not forever,
Just for a little while.
Anyways,
Forever doesn't exist.
So doesn't happiness.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
The Soho lights
Were shining like an electric lobster
I was thinking what an Edmonton boy
Should do-
As punk rockers smoked marihuana
In small corners
Shadows danced a routine that was choreographed
In hell-
And glue, speed and alcohol blended into humidity
Eerybody knew God had no recognition
For this recondite humanity
I thought about something else............
Life became static blind
Drunken dreads were jostling in plastic conversation
****** out of their minds-
There became a powerful flow of left-wing
Political notion-
The stale scent of a previous saviour
Became more obvious and universal
Reggae pounded into the trashed idealism
Like an anti-septic commercial
And thoughts of EXODUS and the bible
We became victims of a faith reversal
But there will will be cold solace in this
For the gloved left fist.
I thought of distant times
Where reality wiped out role models
As their dreams vanished into hallocinogenic fungi.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
Long walks under the sun.
Tender brains in unsure men,
A breeze caresses the pines
A rocky ocean shore below
Nothing to do,
Just somewhere to go.
Red shirts, marihuana, alcohol.
Friendship and love
Blossoming through time,
Piercing
The blue sky dressed above
By some superintendent devil's.
For these memories
Act like drugs
On my depressed brain now.
It was long ago,
Yet I'm still here.
That church eating away the
Sunlight, had a christ with no legs
Three years later I understand.
Memories are echos,
We hear them clear
We know deep inside what we
Want to hear
But the shore gets higher
And longer and wide
The sound is now a Cowbell, or a stain,
A dead mouse and
her dry dead remains,
A footstep in sand that left
before I said it could.
Which sunk into the sea,
before I wished it should.
What are we left with
When we feel regret?
I feel
like I've let something go,
Somehow, and what?
How can I know
So I linger here
On my empty bed,
Without any happiness
And blood in my head
Those red shirts popping
everywhere I feel
I am abandonned
Buried away
I shouldn't shouldn't have hurried
I should have stayed.
Yet it's all over,
Those men are gone.
They're out on the ocean
Singing new songs.
When satan is nye
Wild wheat is ****
Human is animal
Friendship is seed
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC