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I hate marijuana.
It is a class A drug for a reason.
It destroys your brain and brings anarchy to the world.

Me looks both ways to see if anyone around
ok mon, now dat da feds are gone, lets get ta business.
Me inhales me blessed ******

**** is cool. It's actually really nice.
If ya t'ink otherwise, den ya better t'ink twice.
Me gonna tell you, why Reggae is my life.
Me love Reggae so much me wish it was me wife.
Marijane is me love. Spliffs and Reefers too.
Kush makes me so hot you'd t'ink I had da flu.
Why should ya smoke herb? Me gonna tell you why.
When ya smoke heaven's grass ya feel like ya gonna fly.
Away from all ya problems. Towards a purposeful end.
Makes ya feel, so nice. ****, you will soon befriend.


Reefer
hErb
Green
Grass
Anus
­Everything Cook and Curry (Reggae term for "Everything is Fine")

*REGGAE
If you are 911, you do not have permission to read this and can't use it in court. Sorry piggy.
On the eleventh day of Reggae Christmas
My boombastic love gave to me:
11 ragin' reefers
10 lightin' lighters
9 hefty island boys
8 bowls of cereal
7 dabs of oil
6 blazin' bubblers
5 smokin' spliffs
4 grams of purple
3 beautiful bowls
2 boombastic bongs
and a brand new marijuana tree.
The 25 Days of Reggae Christmas
a political party that supports
the legalization of Mary Jane
is bound to be the first one
to sprint down the winner's lane

the constituents shall be busy
potting many a dope seed
so they've got a sufficient supply
of ye olde happy ****

to-day bongs and reefers
will be lit in much jubilation
as the smokers get high
on Mary Jane's elevation
betterdays Jun 2014
when the world,
was much younger
and i was a stupid-crazy
girl-ly-chick, enamoured
with her youth.

i drove, a sunshine,
lemon, yellow bottomed, white pith on top combi van. coyly, cloyingly named Mello Martha.

it was...surfboards and swimsuits,
egg and bacon sangers,
early morning breezes,
after a blitz at the breadbox.

before... changing into
the structured, tortured baby, bank teller blues,
in the back,doors left open.

it was... rockin, knockin,
***, on credit,
to a promised future,
alluded to, but postponed,
for the moment.

it was... bruised back and
grazed knees,
harder, deeper oh god!
oh god! please... faster, fucken frenzies,
on a saturday night.

it was....running away to nowhere,
to find myself,
then finding me,
running away from,
the self i didn't want to know.
noway, nowhere, nohow.

it was... a barrel of monkeys, a barrel of laughs,
a keg of beer,
a box of wine,
under the crowded stars.

it was.... a roadtrip,
up the coast,
midnight bonfire,
midnight munchies,
playing hunches,
exploring reefs and reefers and such.

it was...far from family
and church rules,
a friendly rebellion,
of loud, proud youth.
totally and brazenly,
uncouth
it was... wham! and m.j.
cindy and boy george's culture club ,paperlace,
billy idol and the beach boys.
sung with abandon,
at spinal tap level eleven.

it was... peaceful, quiet, sleeping grace.
insanely in love with...
i forgot his name.

it was.... the birth of bodaciously me.
all brass hair and bosoms,
wild and carefree.

it was ....so long ago,

it was... yesterday night,

when i saw... Mello Martha's identical twin,
stopped at a traffic light.
it was... sunshine and lemon, bitter and sweet,
as she sailed off, down the street.
i sat and watched,
wist, full of recollect,
far and away, from my presently minded place...
sitting in, the driver's seat,
of my mom-blue subaru.
On the twelfth day of Reggae Christmas
My boombastic love gave to me:
12 tangy totos
11 ragin' reefers
10 lightin' lighters
9 hefty island boys
8 bowls of cereal
7 dabs of oil
6 blazin' bubblers
5 smokin' spliffs
4 grams of purple
3 beautiful bowls
2 boombastic bongs
and a brand new marijuana tree.
The 25 Days of Reggae Christmas
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just a tip for all ja reefers our dere
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJDXmFLmga0
great to smoke and **** to on a beautiful day on de island
just a little love from ya reggae uncle from another parent
from de island
Poeta de Cabra Jul 2014
Like wow man what was that **** we smoked?
Must be some heavy **** man, that we just toked
Look in the mirror man, perhaps you'll see my point
Wow, what the hell man did you put in that last joint

My brain is hurting, my eyes are half closed and hazy
What has happened to your face man, I'm goin' crazy
Gotta get some fresh air man or I'm bound to flip
Smoked a coupla reefers, feels like an acid trip

Hell man you are really weird and looking queer
Mouth so big you could whisper in your own ear
Nose like a squashed peg,  it is beginning to twitch
Man, your'e real ugly, a mean lookin' *******

Your eyes are darting everywhere, God only knows how
With your tongue, you can even lick your own eyebrow
Tonsils are swollen, I can see right down your throat
Must have drank lots of beer coz your lunch is afloat

Man if you are going near a mirror turn off the light
If you see what I can see you'll probably die of  fright
Perhaps it was the white powder that made you look queer
Can't blame the ***** coz Iv'e only been drinking light beer

Half of your guts came out last time you started to cough
Man,  get outa my sight till these God dam drugs wear off
Now my veins feel like they'll burst, the blood is a pumpin'
Lungs are short of oxygen and my heart is really thimpin'

I know you think its funny ya ****** but please do not grin
Coz when you start smiling man, you are as ugly as sin
Gonna go to bed now man, see ya in the mornin' old friend
Hope when I wake up man, you are looking normal again
Kaftan down in Katmandu and
on the trail, to
know who and what,
I saw
the eyes blazed red with light from
reefers lit for you
and some guru spouting nonsense,
Kaftan down in Katmandu.

Islands inside islands and the
islands were all me
and swirling smoke is all I was
drifting,
drifting free.

Kaftan down in Katmandu,
I can't remember when but
it was long, long time ago.
Poe Reimer Sep 2016
I wasn't there; I didn't see,
but here's the tale as told to me:
A load of buddies concert bound,
four reefers smoked, 2 quarts near downed.
One raised a quart to drink the last
just as a cop went driving past;
he spoke some words up to the sky
and soon a naked man walked by.
The cop thought quick, said "***". They got.
So what's the verdict? God or not?
Cydney Something Jun 2019
There are certain things
That are constant
At every truck stop:

The **** bottles,
never far from the trash cans
The diesel rivers,
perfuming the air like iridescent, poisoned flowers
The old men,
casting their eyes down as they walk
The idling engines,
singing lullabies to those in "sleeper"
The dog,
whining, waiting, or watching
The cat,
pretending not to care at all
The noisy reefers,
The bluetooth headsets,
The IFTA stickers,
The overpriced everything

And for me,
The hope that it will all go away
We got to crash out before we burn out and they turn out their pockets to look for the makings, building bonfires and reefers,
we could smoke kippers and not know,

it's getting dark or are my eyes closed?
does the twenty four hour deli sell
bourbon or bonbons?

in distress but we don't care with our park bench address
and the lighting comes free
only the best is and you know the rest is
*******.

We go mad because that's we're the mad go
somewhere on skid row
ask
if you don't know
I did.
Ryan O'Leary Feb 2021
You can't just barge
into a canal without
a lock and quay or
you will get astern
warning from the
harbour master if
you arrive without
an oar or two because
piggy packers are
frowned upon by the
stevedores who smoke
reefers to avoid boredom
when they are on the
***** line which is
usually full of bow
thrusters who like it
best in the aft regardless
of the swell.

— The End —