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"marijuana" poems
She was only seventeen In a town called Mexicali Purple lipstick, hair dyed green Wouldn't let her leave without me And she liked things obscene That I won't talk about here But her **** you wouldn't believe, So I had to keep her around... **My marijuana girl, my marijuana girl Her eyes lit up When I lit up My marijuana girl My marijuana girl, my marijuana girl Smoky dreams and tequila screams...** ...My Marijuana Girl... She was a wild thing indeed Life carried by the wind A little wink is all she needs To drive a holy man to sin My bloodshot eyes were hypnotized My head started to spin She can blow you up or calm your heart Like nitroglycerine **My marijuana girl, my marijuana girl Her eyes lit up When I lit up My marijuana girl My marijuana girl, my marijuana girl Smoky dreams and tequila screams...** ...My Marijuana Girl... *Mi chica marijuana My marijuana girl*
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC
Marijuana Girl
PARODY OF "OCTOPUS'S GARDEN" BY RINGO STARR. I'd like to be in the country In a marijuana garden in the shade They'd let us skid, and smoke a lid In a marijuana garden in the shade I'd ask my friends to come and smoke A bowl of good until they all choke I'd like to be in the country In a marijuana garden in the shade We would find digs, and ditch the pigs In our little hideaway inside a van Resting our head on a truck bed In a marijuana garden on a ranch. We would laugh at stupid **** We'd forget why and take a hit. I'd like to be in the country In a marijuana garden in the shade We would smoke and talk about The police that put us all away (put your stoner *** away) Oh I'm high! I'm high as the blue sky Forgot to go to work today. (Unemployed today) We would be so toasted you and me No one there to call the boys in blue I'd like to be in the country In a marijuana garden with you In a marijuana garden with you In a marijuana garden with you
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC
Marijuana Garden
When we're together the world Is spinning through jello the leaves on trees are hazy bits of confetti in the wind. The silence between us is thick.. and soothing as we glide along the summer pavement. His scent fills my lungs like a sedative... His scent..it makes me feel like I'm in love again... Like I could love again.
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Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
Mr. Marijuana
Take a **** Inhale the smoke, This isn't no joke I love this plant Let's make a chant, All hail this incredible plant Marijuana is the best **** all the rest, I'll take this rest I'm high While you lie, There's no time to disguise So let's take a **** Inhale the smoke, Because this I no joke Marijuana is the best smoke!!! 6-26-15
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Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC
Marijuana
spark of life touches earth leaves crackle and explode into breath in deep romance, my lungs kiss smoke and Spirit expands within sinking and soaking through skin deep into my roots dripping into channels of rivers flowing freely to my brain crackling with neurons ever grasping dendritically to reach nutritious extrapolations stormy interpretations and interpolations crackling branches of white birch lightning
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
Spirit Smoke, an Ode to the Marijuana Spirit
Motivated by the light I sit in the darkness and plan my escape, the lighter reminds me of the sun. I drift off to a faraway land, it is always sunny here.
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Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 1:58 PM UTC
Marijuana
Marijuana Bowls Imagination Enforced Embracing Your High.
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Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
Marijuana Haiku.
Grind it Pour it Twist it Lick it Light it Inhale it Swallow it Exhale it Share it Feel it Finish it Adore it
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Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
Marijuana
The distant park Was a graveyard of dead stars. Each streetlight a system of worlds, So many lives between each mote of light, Indistinguishable in their unique love, Bespoke hate, and the drama of the modern age. Drunk laughter behind transparent Double doors. Another hotel balcony, Another cloud behind the canopy Of marijuana eyes To unsettle me from the crowd. She points out, when you look closely You can see the disorder Amongst all constellations Of life and love and litter; Of discarded Coke cans And temporary highs. She says this is not a scene To imbue the ****** of a present mind, More to baulk at the incompletion Of one thousand to-do lists; A million reasons why You should just stay inside. She says you can see the human swell Of ignorance, our city lights Blotting out the stars In a black ocean of broken politic And irretrievable fault lines- Divisions between us all. Lives twisted with professional smiles And eyes lit with stunning indifference. Still, I have felt charity and warmth On the doorstep of lunatics and fascists. I have read the love of life In faces of those who gave up. I have recounted countless artists Who saw beauty In moments that precisely lacked it. I have spent too many nights In anaesthesia, Fleeing each instance of feeling And terror; all the tremors That tell me I am still alive. Continued to stare at the lights Long after her voice And the laughter inside had gone. Heard waves in the traffic. A world so large, so expansive, It can never truly sleep. Every broken heart, Every war-torn land, Every promotion, Every one-night stand. I wonder what would happen If we all stood still. If we all took one moment To observe the motion That unfolds beneath Our static windowsill. If we all took one moment To recover our loss. The wars that we won, The feelings, forgot. The hell we retain; Our paradise, lost.
0
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 11:07 AM UTC
Windowsill
The distant park Was a graveyard of dead stars. Each streetlight a system of worlds, So many lives between each mote of light, Indistinguishable in their unique love, Bespoke hate, and the drama of the modern age. Drunk laughter behind transparent Double doors. Another hotel balcony, Another cloud behind the canopy Of marijuana eyes To unsettle me from the crowd. She points out, when you look closely You can see the disorder Amongst all constellations Of life and love and litter; Of discarded Coke cans And temporary highs. She says this is not a scene To imbue the ****** of a present mind, More to baulk at the incompletion Of one thousand to-do lists; A million reasons why You should just stay inside. She says you can see the human swell Of ignorance, our city lights Blotting out the stars In a black ocean of broken politic And irretrievable fault lines- Divisions between us all. Lives twisted with professional smiles And eyes lit with stunning indifference. Still, I have felt charity and warmth On the doorstep of lunatics and fascists. I have read the love of life In faces of those who gave up. I have recounted countless artists Who saw beauty In moments that precisely lacked it. I have spent too many nights In anaesthesia, Fleeing each instance of feeling And terror; all the tremors That tell me I am still alive. Continued to stare at the lights Long after her voice And the laughter inside had gone. Heard waves in the traffic. A world so large, so expansive, It can never truly sleep. Every broken heart, Every war-torn land, Every promotion, Every one-night stand. I wonder what would happen If we all stood still. If we all took one moment To observe the motion That unfolds beneath Our static windowsill. If we all took one moment To recover our loss. The wars that we won, The feelings, forgot. The hell we retain; Our paradise, lost.
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65
It doesn't **** you... But It makes you forgetful & dumb It can be addicting even when you say it don't. I can't even talk to you when you're all doped up. It makes me sad that you'd just turn to drugs.
0
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
marijuana
My favorite # 1 Life experiences enhancer stress and pain reliever the magical psychotropic attributes it has makes me go loco. Cannabis Sativa/Indica or Hybrid I love it all...the only bud I won't smoke is "Reggies" that seedy nasty **** It gives me a headache. All other qualities strains and methods of ingesting or using marijuana welcome. The *** oil is so strong yet so dreamy and good. All around is excellent medicine and I will always remain to use it even after I quit my other habits. Makes people rejoice and come together happily with each other and commune and be kind to each other respectful to each other. That is what u love about cannabis. PotHead4 Life 4/20Friendly ©Franko the Christian Poet
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Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
~~~Marijuana~~~
The switch is welcomed with arms open like a soldier's homecoming. — — It's not love, but it's certainly not hate.
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
Music, Marijuana, Warm Skin.
the first day i spent in Venice, CA i bought the 2 most ster e o typical things Number 1 was my medical marijuana license Number 2 was my skateboard I’m not very good at skateboarding but when you shred on the boardwalk people get out of your way faster and thats really all i wanted
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
my skateboard
For he's a jolly good fellow, adorned in yellow and love, it was hard to see his face through the smoke of a three blunt rotation, but I could feel his heart beating from across the trailer. Worn out eighties music was the unofficial theme of the night and I think we lived up to the expectations Eddie Murphy set for his.
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Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
Marijuana, Alcohol, Video Games and an Eighteenth Birthday.
On the third day of Reggae Christmas My boombastic love gave to me: 3 beautiful bowls 2 boombastic bongs and a brand new marijuana tree.
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Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
The Third Day of Reggae Christmas
It kinda ***** to be hispanic. Because apparently, my ***** tastes like salsa. and my calves are not strong as a result of exercise, it’s because I’m hauling pounds of marijuana across the borders. and I’m automatically dumb, you know your people have been brainwashed when even they start to believe that they’re dumb. that’s what I learned when the Mexican girl next to me in math class leaned over to me and said, “You’re really smart for one of us.” if a white woman has my skin color, it’s beautiful. when my naturally tan skin is pictured, i’m now wearing “too much bronzer.” I’m a fake. I “don’t belong in this country.” Because my ancestors looked up to this country as a place of refuge and stability, but I tend to disagree, I gotta leave now? Take a moment and live in my home. Live in my country. Know how my life works. And then tell me oppression isn’t a thing.
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Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Why It ***** To Be Hispanic.
Mine 6:48 a Wednesday Two Weeks later Then: Thanksgiving eve 5E; MIT I sit at my desk: stare out of the windows < My skull at the Chocolate Bock I just Overflowed > all over my notes on the Circe episode of Ulysses, which I have not yet read. 20 minutes after I just –– Went alone. Stood there, yes, alone Above the porcelain enterprise Taking that litmus test of humanity Clear, I pass. Yellow, I fail. It was rather clear I think Honestly? I don't remember. Two weeks ago, I stood there== and came up with this phrase. Standing there with special eyes:::: Seeing. Came back to my room, I did, faithfully Looked there below my second fridge A plate sat. mine. On it: maybe food, maybe ***** Probably marijuana Only the first my own Who remembers? Next to it: an empty prescription bottle "It's some medicine for Asthma. I don't even _have_ asthma!" "Classy **** I am; I've never bought a shot glass. Just use discarded prescription bottles." An experiment @ the sink: exact: 2.0z. On the dot. Turns out that's 1&1/3 of the standard—The ritual We make it. And have made it. For years now together after midnight [or so] 4 years. Soon it will be Maybe I shall leave; probably not but harken back, that fortnight, less 6 To that evening. Orange and purple Effort sublime but not enough: Lost to a team of Freshman.?! ~If only:~ "Tripped mad-laundry shrooms", 6 and a half months ago Two men sit in the corner of my room I know one; the other spoke 2-weeks-later: sticky keyboard I am not sober, but who is? Last night. Remember those videos? reminded me that *** can be beautiful: After basically 2 years: I almost forgot. x-art.com. December 6, 2011 I have a perspective now: It is not the same as yours it is not and, by necessity, can not be the same. But I see it. Stephen Daedalus calls it immature—lyrical but **** you, James: it is mine! I am. Will always be. Will have never been. But, God/Goddess **** it now! I am: I See. I try! ~D.B.Guy
0
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:23 AM UTC
Mine.
Mine 6:48 a Wednesday Two Weeks later Then: Thanksgiving eve 5E; MIT I sit at my desk: stare out of the windows < My skull at the Chocolate Bock I just Overflowed > all over my notes on the Circe episode of Ulysses, which I have not yet read. 20 minutes after I just –– Went alone. Stood there, yes, alone Above the porcelain enterprise Taking that litmus test of humanity Clear, I pass. Yellow, I fail. It was rather clear I think Honestly? I don't remember. Two weeks ago, I stood there== and came up with this phrase. Standing there with special eyes:::: Seeing. Came back to my room, I did, faithfully Looked there below my second fridge A plate sat. mine. On it: maybe food, maybe ***** Probably marijuana Only the first my own Who remembers? Next to it: an empty prescription bottle "It's some medicine for Asthma. I don't even _have_ asthma!" "Classy **** I am; I've never bought a shot glass. Just use discarded prescription bottles." An experiment @ the sink: exact: 2.0z. On the dot. Turns out that's 1&1/3 of the standard—The ritual We make it. And have made it. For years now together after midnight [or so] 4 years. Soon it will be Maybe I shall leave; probably not but harken back, that fortnight, less 6 To that evening. Orange and purple Effort sublime but not enough: Lost to a team of Freshman.?! ~If only:~ "Tripped mad-laundry shrooms", 6 and a half months ago Two men sit in the corner of my room I know one; the other spoke 2-weeks-later: sticky keyboard I am not sober, but who is? Last night. Remember those videos? reminded me that *** can be beautiful: After basically 2 years: I almost forgot. x-art.com. December 6, 2011 I have a perspective now: It is not the same as yours it is not and, by necessity, can not be the same. But I see it. Stephen Daedalus calls it immature—lyrical but **** you, James: it is mine! I am. Will always be. Will have never been. But, God/Goddess **** it now! I am: I See. I try! ~D.B.Guy
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69
i used to have a potent mind so full of ideas and thoughts but then i started smoking *** from time to time to time i used to think i had a bright future i went to school and college and got a degree but all along the way i had a good, old friend this scoundrels name is Demon Marijuana my good friend Demon Marijuana loves me she comes over and gets me high and then i come to see the light for just a while longer before fading back into a fetal curl i used to think i’d go somewhere and conquer i went to go and sit some place instead and stuffed my pipe with grass and inhaled deeply the aromatic smoke of my old friend i used to have a potent mind so full of big dreams and illusions but then i started smoking *** from time to time to time my good friend Demon Marijuana loves me she comes over and we get high and then she goes leaving me in the dark a little longer then fading back into the beginning gray originally posted on my blog https://sublimeobscenities.wordpress.com/ on August 20, 2014
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC
demon marijuana
I’ve made it my friend, To the real Marijuana land
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Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 9:46 PM UTC
The Real, Marijuana Land
now it's come to this, my sweet marijuana miss. ugh i cannot sleep.
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Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 1:46 AM UTC
missing you: a haiku
After dark, energies flow in manners that pleases them most braided together in lust, two king cobras were seen spiraling up when darkness like a camouflage sets in thickly around,you're the  marijuana of my mind, seeking far horizons of pleasure. I willingly seek oblivion, when pink pointed goosebumps like tarantula's love bites, results of mating time cruelty infest all over my body's landscape, signatures of ecstasy. I feel your lips become, moist, soft, honey from each drips never enough,for me, is it possible to get inebriated more? Your sighs and moans speak the vocabulary of a forgotten ancient language love hurriedly resurrected for us from past, brevity is the crux of that lingo of erupting jets of desire, it teaches you to moan in fifty different tones in all;even more? Your sharpened nails etch cave murals on my itching back that has the searing taste of blood, in hot hot chilly red. my taste buds of lust, begs for more and more of it. You are the marijuana fueling my narcotic flights that land in your misty land, enveloping my senses as a whole. "The night is still young, hear what the darkness whispers" I hear you speak like an oracle, on things about to happen.
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Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
A tryst with ***** narcotic moments
Chisel the stones down Breathe deep and let it all out An air of lightness Don't care to go down Into the well and water Splash'd hair covers eyes The fall breeze leaves here When the clock ceases ticking Feeling nothing now Come here again dear Bless green the haze in the air Spark again in me
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
Marijuana