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Pick up
Grind it
Roll it
Light it
Smoke it
I love
I love spliff
I be jammin down da beach
When I heard da pastor preach
"Baatiboys stay far from we!" he yell
"Baatiboys will burn in hell!"
He take a drag from the spliff
He jam out a reggae riff
"Excuse I" I say
"You should be on your way"

The spliff be shaped like a ****
He light it with tha bic
Baatiboy wink at me
His last wink that'll be

I rise up like Jah
I smack him in da jaw
Da spliff be fallin'
Da baatiboy be bawling'

He runnin' away cryin'
But this baatiboy gonna be dyin'

Pull out tha chopper
Pastor be cheering
At the baatiboys I'm sneering

Stay off me beach
The views expressed in this piece do not reflect the views of FOX news or its affiliates
in my backyard
with alluring flowers
wild flowers, purple haze
green, with a shade of russet

Nature at it's very best,
the visual perception,
of my garden
to the mind and soul
a great aesthetic rapture!

This is my pagoda
I come here to meditate,
in the spectre
of beautiful  aura
and to be at peace with nature,

Amidst my temple
a spliff I shall spark
with a profound  purpose,
to bless my mind
and to bless my soul
with sagacity,
from the universe!
Shaine Fraz May 2014
You like to say love disappeared.
And I swear it never left, but she talk like Kanye "Ima let you finish"
shrug her shoulders; cut me off, Swift.
    Drinks on the table it was no one else's business, Henny in my system there was no one else who witnessed how she never took a breath like a run on sentence so I'm in the club flexing working on my fitness; arms out stretched on my chest crucifixion.
    I'm forgiven but could never get a word in not even one syllable I'm talking in synonyms I,
nevermore, words with friends.  Triple word how absurd you be trippin ****, on my Instagram insecurity I'm tired of it I'm with my Boys chillin rarely smoked but might burn a spliff; ease the pain so insane major Payne fatigue is in.  
    I got a glimpse of future, I use to, try to hit you up reconnect, bluetooth, I'm in her ear lying for the ***, I miss you, she on top giving me the truth: this all you.  But **** it though I'm not trynna be your man, but when she leaving out for work I be sleepin in
and when she home I tax that *** like I'm Uncle Sam nothing ever change so after head she be at my neck
    Flashback to the present
she still telling me how I don't get it
unproductive in her presence, you not even in front of me I'm still tasting lemons; Yo, my star player wants a trade should I let her go? cut too deep for bandaids should I let it flow.  
    Throwback to the past vampire clothes but the blood different I'm a sucker for that red though: she was floating 6 inches from the earth floor, you's a victim baby true blood, spoil us!  Show Me What You Got lil mama let your "Kingdom Come" dressed in all black spending money black republican?  Awesome and some; I was sliding home she was catching, clamping; say I turn her on like a touch screen, Samsung; with a touch of color you would disobey your mother as I slid under your covers
mid-day massages
"Midnight Maunders"
at least that's how it use to be, now Award Tour got her trippin almost frequently
we use to fight for love she said now she a causality!
        "and how you gonna make this bout you it's about me, phone ringing since 1am it's about 3
  thought you was slick huh,
thought I was sleep, you **** right love disappeared"
but she never leaves.
She's still waiting to exhale, but she never breaths.
© 2014 by S Fraz All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of S Fraz
Good king Selassie looked out
on the feast of Marley
When the kush lay round about
dank and green and sticky
Loudly bumped reggae that night
As the king did turn
When a stoner came in sight
Gathering kush to burn

"Come here boy and stand by me
if you know this then say;
where would that young stoner be
at the end of this day?"
"My King he lives quite far away
rather close to Babylon
where exactly I can not say
he surely lives in Zion."

"Bring me kush and fine hashish
bring me bongs and paper
You and I, his base shall reach
bringing dank kush vapour!"
Island boy and Selassie
went across great Zion
eyes all red and mouths all dry
They rode upon the lion

"King, my eyes are growing white
and we smoked our last spliff
I fear that I may die tonight
play me one last reggae riff..."
"Island boy you don't recall
who it is you roll wit
unto me JAH trusted all
of the kush on this planet!"

So Selassie I was blessed
they were high once more
the stoner was offered the rest
of what they had in store
Therefore rasta men be sure
if you have that dank kush
share it with your brothers poor
and find yourself with more bush
Based on the classic christmas carol "Good King Wenceslas"
I gave it an island twist tho.
Frank Brown Aug 2012
Seven or eight people lounged about in a small back room. I had no expectations before arriving so I’m neither surprised nor disappointed by what I discover.  I find myself sat in one of those reclining gaming chairs and think “This must be the best chair in the room”.

Just playing it cool. I don’t know anyone here. There’re a few guys playing the Xbox. I eye them over, none of them look to challenge my presence, either too engrossed in the screen, or intimidated in some way. To my left sit the women in the place. I have their attention. Relief that the journey here wasn’t in vein, I give them all a nod and a smile. I casually introduce myself, and then find myself playing on the Xbox. I know I can’t play, but that’s the act. I ask what buttons to press, and laugh at my own hopelessness, eventually relinquishing the controller. It soon finds its way back into my hands. By this time, some bird is sat up on the arm next to me. She’s watching my actions, how I take command of the situation. Why don’t I take command of her? Sitting and waiting has never been a good tactic. I pass the controller over to her and say a few words in an attempt to get the conversation rolling. The drink clouds my thoughts and I forget that I’m talking to her. In the distance I hear them remark, “He’s a cool guy.”

I sit, reclined, legs outstretched, coat open revealing buttoned collar, slicked back hair, that look of pure relaxation in ones surroundings. She’s diggin’ it. I know she’s digging it. Her leg starts to press into my arm, and then her hands are down by my side. Commotion in the room. Some fat ***** needs to make her presence known. Everyone chilled. She obviously wants the attention. Not my type. She leaves for an upstairs room, and moments later, a spliff finds its way into my hands, courtesy of the girls to my left. I take a few drags, telling myself not to get too high; too late for that. I pass it on and fall back into the chair. Forgot I hadn’t smoked in a month.

Still a laid back guy, although not sure if it’s a choice anymore. I know it’s taking me over now. Slowly, I find myself entering that zone where weeds been taking me lately. Thoughts of everything; no filter; the need to verbalize things. Suddenly I’m Mr Charismatic, and you are all my audience, whether you like it or not. I stopped caring or stop noticing people’s reactions and forget about myself. I let my ego out to play, unregulated by the discipline of consciousness.

There are people in the room. Pretty sure they weren’t here earlier. One of them says something to me. “Is he been aggressive?” I think to myself. Judging from the tone of my reply, I obviously felt the need to establish my position. Taking no **** from these guys it seems; I’m still the Don in the room. Remember myself, remember the girl. Mr Cool again.

Filling up water in the kitchen, find myself chatting to random guys. Banter flying around the place. She’s watching me. Some powder is under my nose. “Kind of you to offer, but that better not be ket.” Turns out it was Mandy. Can’t say no to a bump. Pretty sure I’m the most ****** in the room right now, but I’m riding it well. Door frame seems like a necessity to keep me upright. Don’t want to brave the assault course back to the recliner, plus, I’m talking to the guys in the kitchen, don’t want to walk away.

We’re meeting J’s bird in thirty minutes. Twenty minutes. Five minutes ago. “We’ll go in five minutes.” She’s there again. Her presence known to me. She's up against me, but time is also against me. Too ****** up to keep playing this game. We’re leaving now. Out the door, I attempt to say a few words as we leave. My eloquence abandons me and leaves me in the ****. Flag a taxi; turns out we’ve booked one. Send him on his way. Tip the driver more than I can afford.
reggae jesus turns water to spliff
reggae jesus push sheep off cliff
reggae jesus kind of *******
Why he push sheep of cliff, why he never clear bowl

reggae jesus have bomba klanga
reggae jesus picks girl and bangsha
reggae jesus slapadabass
reggae jesus slaps yo face

reggae jesus has done enough
reggae jesus is corrupt
reggae jesus put on trial
people think he shouldn't stay a while
reggae jesus put to death
last request to light a spliff
as he takes his last breath
he smells like kush people take a sniff

later People find a field of kush
reggae jesus made a new bush
reggae jesus misunderstood
twas his upbringing in da hood
Ja feel?
Styles May 2014
Dreadlock Rasta;
No like informa,
No like imposta,
**** smoke; burning da trees
Mango scented leaves,
Burnt grapefruit scented breeze.
Wolly mammoth size locks,
Steal wool, *****, tied in a knot,
Jamaican colors wrap tie; sitting on top.
I and I, believe it or not.
No woman no cry,
No problem;
Him cool as a rock.
Charles Dickens by his side,
Studying stanzas, deciphering plots.
Prayer's meeting;
meditation- never stop.
Water’s blue waves,
Fresh fish after 12’o clock.
Under the bridge, find my spot.
By his sweet Sugarcane from,
Miss Parker Sugarcane shop
Burning a spliff, because the ****
is his only green; pastures plot.
Mary Jane, his only queen be,
Never leaving he; love him or not.
Poetic T Feb 2014
What day is it where we at, where is
the ****, were you trying to smoke
my cat??

I see things through glassed eyes,
my mouth has the hunger, but I'm
to ****** to drive, Whats in the fridge
in the cupboard, fck it i can make a
munchie feast out of that.

I smoke with friends or when alone, i,ll
smoke in the dark room the spliff my
only light I see *"wow look at those trails...

I have speed dial on my phone 1 is my
frindly dealer who delivers to my home,
2,3,4 take away pardise they no what I
want when ever I phone.

I,m a stoner there is no mistake, I will
always be happy unless my **** does
get braked, and if my phone battery dies
no mucnchies, no smoke, I couldn't deal
with that, *"wow look at the pretty lights,
Jeremy Duff Mar 2013
Every time, I pass by an In-N-Out I remember that night we went to a show in Sacramento.
You, driving your van full of people and hopes and laughs and drugs,
pulled up in front of the school around 5 o'clock on a rainy January afternoon.
I hopped in, immediately overwhelmed by the love I took the back seat to myself.
In front of me was Jena, wearing her blue and purple sweater that I always will remember by.
Next to her was Fritz, dressed in his usual attire consisting of a hoody and jeans.
Next to him was Shelby, a girl I had not had the pleasure of spending time with before that night.
She didn't say much throughout the whole night nor has she since then.
Riding shotgun was Dylan, another person I had not hung out with before. He was busy mixing shisha and hash oil and I don't blame him for not saying hello.
And you, Tyler, you were driving. And as we drove with the windows down, your hair whipped around.

Almost as soon as we were on our way, I was packing spliff, courtesy of Shelby into a pipe, courtesy me.
We got it burning, just as we reached the highway and not long after that the hookah, courtesy Fritz, was slowly burning the hash-shisha concoction, courtesy Dylan.
I remember not saying much, except when we sang along to some rap song that I could not tell you the name of now.
And at one point, after the spliff had all been smoked and quick hooka session  had concluded Dylan turned around and asked me something I could not make out.
I replied back to him with a what and he again asked an non-understandable question, only this time I said "Sorry, I can't hear you, I'm really high."
Everybody in the van laughed and Tyler said she loved me and Fritz patted me on the back and Shelby turned around and smile at me.
Maybe a half hour after we left we stopped at In-N-Out for some beautiful Double-Doubles.
Once we got our food we began to understand that we had ordered not Double-Doubles but regular hamburgers. Albeit we were very put off by this, it did little to ruin our night.

I can only remember brief portions of that night.
I remember being dropped off at the curb of a punk rock show Shelby and I were attending.
I remember meeting our friends Lukas and Dakota, who are dating, inside.
I remember standing watching the bands, thinking of God knows what.
I remember walking two blocks to a parking lot the van was parked in.
I remember getting in, again overwhelmed by the love and this time, smoke.
I remember Lukas and I went outside to smoke a cigarette.
I remember a local coming up to us and asking us for a light.
I remember talking to him about something. The weather, perhaps.
I remember hugging Lukas good bye and getting in the van.
I remember falling asleep.
I remember waking up at a gas station where the tank was filled, courtesy Fritz.
I remember getting home.
I remember the laughs
and the smoke
and Lukas
and Fritz
and Tyler
and Jena
and Shelby
and Dakota
and Dylan.
I remember the love.
Francie Lynch Dec 2014
Some past details are sketchy now,
There's things I know I've done:
I did a spliff with Neil Young,
Had a pint with Pete's best singer,
Walked on Nelson's ship,
The ship that shook Napoleon.
Stole The Dubliners cigarettes,
And the matches too.
McCartney once played for me,
Cat Stevens served us tea.
Leonard was with Suzanne,
He'll always be your man.
I imagine Lennon at his white grand,
Making love to ivory keys;
Krishna George on a cushion,
With sitar on his knees.
Joni's paradise was paved,
But we saved many trees.
I once floated on a zeppelin,
Beneath the dark side of the moon.
I didn't need an aqualung
To help with songs I sung.
We were changing with the times,
And the times they were a changin.
ELP and Alice Cooper,
Zappa, Jackson Brown,
Brought us high,
But we came down.
There's so much more to be done,
But when this life has been run,
I'll cross my legs and play some chords
Of yesterday and days before.
My boy has a spliff and I don't
I ask him
Bless Me Up
He say yes.
Blessed man
Timmy Shanti Mar 2018
Some Jamie snugly in me hand,
A cause for celebration,
Today, I found me promised land:
The home of Irish nation.

I dyed me hair shamrock green,
I made me teeth look orange,
(A spliff of Carroll's in between)
A sliver of Dutch courage.

I mingle with the leprechauns
(A shamrock on me chest)
Not in a thousand years gone,
I’m messing with the best.

Atop the jolly rainbow,
In hand – a *** of gold,
Revering, till I find me rest,
The stories I’ve been told.
Happy St. Patrick's!
Klvshp0et Apr 2018
My mental health is shot to ****
I dream of wealth
cuz I ain’t rich.
I dream of peace
and neck a fifth.
and smoke a spliff.
If you can’t feel my ****
then you can kiss my ***
and **** a ****.
The **** is this?
Depression creepin
over my body
like it is insects.

My mental health is shot to ****
I dream of wealth
cuz I ain’t rich.
I dream of peace
and neck a fifth.
and smoke a spliff.
If you can’t feel my ****
then you can kiss my ***
and **** a ****.
The **** is this?
Depression creepin
over my body
like it is insects.

Been stressed
Ocean blue
like windex.
This is how I
the **** that I
can’t confess.
The **** that
make me undress
from outer form.
One man megazord
but these ******
can not see me
like I’m underground
like dinosaurs.
I fight a war
that’s mental
with bare fist
and clinched dentals.
This **** is detrimental
and my hearts become resentful
it’s so hard for me
to leave my residential.
On a instrumental
I release
and then I assemble.
The type of ****
that make yo
dome piece tremble.
So *******
yo *****
and the horse
that rode here on.
Or should I say whip?
since we livin in new days.
We all know that
we all new slaves.
We see the blood
on the leaves.
The flies laying
on a baby’s cheek.
The cries from a mother
in a streets
when she weep.
I’ve gotten so high
I’m desensitized to pain.
Don’t call me by
government name

My mental health is shot to ****
I dream of wealth
cuz I ain’t rich.
I dream of peace
and neck a fifth.
and smoke a spliff.
If you can’t feel my ****
then you can kiss my ***
and **** a ****.
The **** is this?
Depression creepin
over my body
like it is insects.

My mental health is shot to ****
I dream of wealth
cuz I ain’t rich.
I dream of peace
and neck a fifth.
and smoke a spliff.
If you can’t feel my ****
then you can kiss my ***
and **** a ****.
The **** is this?
Depression creepin
over my body
like it is insects.
Lyrics from a song I wrote
Lora Lee Aug 2017
sitting here but not
my insides
       in a twist
my organs blooming,
their flower landscapes
rising in my solar plexus
like poetry expanding
its cellular shapes
        light frequencies
I need way more.
I need the pulling off
      and stripping down
of souls
I need to meet in
a depth of falling
I need to be pushed off
the silent gates of madness
into endless sea
no looking back
senses piqued
from slightest brush
of oral butter pouring
on hot cream
my mouth, a searing
crimson wound
oscillates in
contraction radar pulses
ripe for intense
tongue exploration
         aching to be filled up with
your distinct flavor
My essence molecular is
overflowing with fluid
giving me life
in throbbing, raw
electric vibes
whipped organic, in
                 rolling tides
Somewhere, out there
                  our volcanic impulses
                          meet in steamy ebbs
                     and send energyflow
to a new and ancient universe,
and I am
a raging heaven's child
      wrapped in
           a tight little
     blood pumping
through these veins
             my longing for
                 dark stretches
   of intimate caresses
to soothe
  the spikes
      of snaking pain
Give me
those airwaves that
let me breathe freedom
into the fields of our skin
Let me run like wild herds
of the animal within

and as I find myself
hanging off
my many-braided loops
         in zigzag split,
my skin rips open,
parting fibers
that expose my
helix swivel
hips grinding into
reaching in to
pull out
fresh rebirth
from between my folds
O help me to allay
this tender affliction
undo me, already
so I lose control
one little shove
and I am over the cliff
deep into ocean
**** over spliff
I am beyond ready
so grind it to the hilt
Give me your
tender-ripped heart,
spill your honeycomb milk

I am here, ravenous
in the pan
uncooked yet ripe
saliva and breath
steaming my own innards
flushing out strife
I am piquant hot pepper
ready to be broiled
my blood is already
my tender meat oiled
mull me over
in your oral cavity
like sacred wine
until I drip
through your bones
and down your spine
Just meld with me
                        and flow
into that light tunnel
of dark time and space
so I can stake out
my rhythms
and claim
Thank you, everyone, for all the love. Right back at you
Nic Sutcliffe Jan 2017
It was then that the universe decided to play
Out a sequence of events that would lead to this day
She conspired with the sun
    with the earth and the moon
With the rest of the cosmos
    to create enough room
For elegant curiosity to bloom

Opportunity presented herself to his door
She gestured,
  and smiled,
   And said "wait no more"
He knew in an instant it was time to act,
Because chances are few, such a plain simple fact.
And so our protagonist seized that one chance,
For his soul to experience a new kind of dance.  

It was all for a girl,
  what if?
She moved with such grace, she sparked up a spliff
In the garden of dreams,
     bathed in glorious sunlight
Her hair, face and smile
     it all felt so right
And watching her glow and feeling her lust,
He knew it was time,
   he knew that he must.
He leaned in closer for a taste of her lips,
She turned in towards him,
    she shuffled her hips
And then when at last they shared that first kiss,
His soul was ignited and smothered in bliss.

And that was the moment that everything changed,
A shift in perspective, a life re-arranged.
For what then ensued through that day and that night,
Was nothing short or pure cosmic delight.

Moments come and moments go
Memories fade over time's forward flow
But the feelings remain, they are timeless and true
And no-one and nothing can take them from you.

So if you're attentive to universe's song,
   and seize opportunity,
you can never go wrong.
For you might one day find where you truly belong
Another poem centered around love but the focus here is seizing opportunities when they present themselves. Peace and love my fellow poets
Fah Aug 2013
Sailing in a dhow at sunset after snorkeling off Mafia island, Tanzania.
The tree’s don’t sleep at night
they photosynthesize , by moonlight.
Leaves drink in the cool wise light
And give off dreams of softly fading starlight

Whispers of secrets , monthly unfurl
A single blossom falls at new moon
Hurtling to the ground, awake before noon
Ever noticed? The very word has the circle
Curled up in the centre , twice to make sure we remember , two full cups , not one.

Geko’s slip off old skins
And the croaking frog adds to the din
As thunder rolls in
Triggering the dogs bark
Guardian of the stark naked couple
Asleep in their parallel worlds
Together under the umbrella of ambient lighting
Not the natural kind either
But a shameless copy of pure sunlight
That emenates when their bodies collide
On the material plane.

Astral visions lead the way to headquarters
The address? Fax? Phone number?
I’m afraid you’ll have to dial again ,
Unless you’ve meditated on the vibration of emancipation
Then you would already know, you are already there
Doors are open , for those who care to try
No lock on this baby ,
Ain’t no safe to play safe
We bask in our humble glory
Under the shores on undulating tides
Rhythmic pulsations
no where to hide
The emanations come from within,
Without , a shadow of a doubt

There is a war coming , infact we’ve already been fighting for decades
Just like the change of winds, nature knows her stuff
Tip the seeds too soon and you’ll end up with a field full of fluff
But just in time and a harvest with enough to reduce every super market shelf to dust
Even though they already stock that kinda stuff
Clean up on Aisle 4, Aisle 3 , Aisle 2 , Aisle 1
Return the purchase , we’ve discovered the ****
In the cake
And we found the frog in the salad,
At least their habitat is intact
Or did you think I was still talking about the shops?

Ok , I’ll change tact
Change of pace.
No , no I will not join the Human Race
Running to where? Why all the running?
From what? To where? From whom , to whom it seems like we run straight to our tombs, without a second glance at perhaps the chance that legs can walk…
Wanna know where I’d rather be?

I want to be on a motorbike heading 70 miles an hour down empty roads
An island paradise , holding the hips of my dearest
To arrive at another home ,
where our friends relax to the forlorne strums of the blues
Tripping on love we depart ,
not without slightly heavy hearts
Peace , friends we’ll see you anon.

Pull into the golden arches , I tell myself ‘I can’t kiss those lips now they’ve touched that burger’
then I remember you’ve been working all day
before you came out to play , I wasn’t up for a dance I was too entranced in my own madness
But. Always the **** , walk up those stairs for me, softly you moan.
I agree in a semi tone. Secrets are meant to be shared,
we quietly told each other of love in the parking lot at 4 am. The pain in your eyes still wakes me up in the middle of thunderstorms.

Awoken to sorrows from the motherland, monsters creep to the door,
peep in the keyhole.
I forget,
your door is activated by credit card numbers that spiral from lips of z-list celebrities.
So we’ll waste away the morning in each other arms,
you watch me as I dress. No underwear no less. Put on your bra properly, suddenly you get kinda frosty.
Not far from where we sat to have a Japanese lunch , pretty close to where I walked to meet you for tea , where you held my feet and handed me a phone I left in your brothers car.
Well that’s where we have breakfast coffee and papaya whilst tourists ogle at the dog guard.
Deaf to our calls , luxuriously taking his time. He didn’t find the secret beach either.
Although the sea was good for a float, and to hear the space journey’s musical manifestation
at every crash of every wave, the magnetic pull playing her crooked beat as she bypasses our feet.
Then, there are two nights with two Amsterdam gals , one smoked lucky strikes and had scars across her wrists , the other photographed trees for a living.
Both blonde , both fair , both with their own flair.

Expect the unexpected , beach raves full of people I don’t really want to be with , so we get tequila shots instead
and stand outside a shop selling knock off clothes when the bar needs to shut.

She took a break to the bathroom , we finally let out the kisses we’d been holding in all night,  
until she got back.

Who said we couldn’t control ourselves? Although to be fair, I could feel you reaching for me wayyy back.

Why should we be selfish? Why shouldn’t we? I still went home with you that night, there really was no two ways about it.
I had *** with you, slightly drunken ***, that was by no means gentle, by no means candle lit , by no means rose petals laid out on the bed, infact , if my memory holds true, there were no flowers apart from the ones on my dress.
I’d say you were lucky , but then I cried at home.
So much pent up emotion in that one act.
Enough to propel us in into another night and untold eons beyond, I’m skipping ahead now,
Where we drank red wine on the shoreline , I used the staff bathroom and noticed all the things that could be improved – seemed like work was wearing off on me.
Still, the best part was yet to come, yeah the *** was fun but nothing compared to the games we played. Dress up and salsa ,
mysterious temples
natures tickles leading to giggles at the foolish endevours of two ***** humans., smoke a spliff , enough to unwind the mind to a new point of time. A flash of something I’ve never seen before, nor have yet to be graced with again.
I guess that was divine. Well, wouldn’t you say….
It was about time.

So , am I still talking about the shops?
Or who wore what with kate moss?
No disrespect
she’s adept at her art but i don’t wanna read about boring old farts
Lets hear about the underground collective of conscious minds who are rewinding the clock , who won’t stop ,

Well quite frankly

How long have we sat , year after year to be told the same **** and bull story.. my ears, my ears! MY EARS!!! They yearn for the sweet serenade of the truth

behind the crumbling arcade of rigged lottery tickets and games of black jack where the house always wins.
Fortunately we’ve been coming since we were five , we know the cards without seeing the faces, we hold all the jacks and aces, we’ve got time on our side

So…that’s why they are running , finding places to hide.

We’d only be stealing from the house to give to the houseless…
With the tools the house gifted to us…doesn’t it seem ironic?

I laughed until I cried the day I discovered the universe had a sense of humor. A dark , ironic , sarcastic tone that involves  a major chord. Maybe a G or a D.
For some reason , my first poem i ever posted here i cut short
i felt that the whole poem was too close
i thought i lost it on my old laptop
but seemingly here it is...


what i seek seems to be seeking me....
Kira Ferguson Jun 2014
I rolled you up
Your insight, your beauty
And all the love you had to offer me
I threaded you with American Spirit
And tucked you in an origami wrap

From grass and earth...
To clouds
One hit
And the world went silent
3 reggae doobies sat on a wall.
One of them was seven feet tall.
The second was short, and fat.
De **** was tough, n' carried a gat.

All of a sudden, a doobette walks by.
De tree doobies wanna giv'er a try.
De bluntz lean in a little closer.
Each givea whistle lik a poser.

De female spliff dismisses deir plees.
De doobies cut 'er off n' get on deir kneees.
Dey beg, and dey beg, and dey cry.
But she turns away and says, "nice try".

De doobies jump back, onto deir wall.
Didn't get how she resisted their call.
A new baety walks by, to test their luck.
Hopefully dis spliff will be down to ****.

The tall one walks around front.
She waves her hand, shooin' dat blunt.
The fat one takes a shot, talks derty.
Clearly she ain't in da mood to be flirty.

Da gangster ****** roll takes a shot.
Literally, he ******' shot 'er bumba clot.
De doobies flee, as the doobette falls.
Dere goes 3 reggae doobies who sat on a wall.

*Respect women. You never know when they might save ya life.
It'd be jokes if the doobies were all cats instead. Right?
William Aug 2014
swindling the air of its delight
using Cannabis pipes,
i have never written high
i finally understand why,
pen to paper
all i can write "cigarette break",
cannabinoid receptors
putting my mind on brink,
My feet get heavy as i start to float
my stress anchors me down,
like a twinkling eye of a magpie
drawn to the red sparks of the spliff,
chasing the magic dragon.
alexander and i wrote a poem about ****
NY Hip Hop
Gold Express
Bling Shop
Afro Brothers

buyin and sellin
filthy lucre
of down hard
Gat packin
on the down low
throwin down
fallin hook
line and stinker

just a bunch
of lil fishies
wigglin at the end
of golden chains

its all about
the bling baby
all about the bling

"I pity the fool"
saith Mr. T
the potentate of
soul and gold
who ain't
down with
the cool jewels
of righteous
B Teamers
arrested by
the silk rope
of glitzy discos
bribing bouncers
with an
earnest Jackson
to *** rush
the vanity faire
of bumping
A Listers

Or was it
Def Jam
coin on

and ghost
face killas
slugging cases
of Kristol
fat spliff
up the *** of
Phat Farm
kids in
the hood
bullets at
the man
takin baths
in tubs
of fifties
lighting up
with crisp
C Notes
in black
its silver
twisting fast
being cool
went blind
Coolie High
still tip
a sip
for the
who ain't

its all about
the raised fist
of power to
the P Diddy
the power
of the people
as leggy
for the
of a
a cool
for a
New Years

Its all about
the bling

All about
the bling
baby, all
about the

NY Hip Hop
Gold Express
Best Prices in
Trenton Since

You Tube Video:
Gil Scott Heron
Ain't No Such Thing As Superman

Jinsen Jeanne May 2015
Naw motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
Ain't pompous
Knock nitty gritty
With ****** up kids
I got uh
E mergency
Kit put together
With pipe and tape
From the basement
You need gum
Got a leak
Motha fkkn leaking
Unstable, collect
N assemble new
You wit half ya
Bodyweight in staples
BMI justified
With baggage n
Fix its
It's only a problem
When ya round
Motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
But I'm one
Of the most torn
Up turned up
******* in the pound
Bombastic sensations
Comin from all sides
A ******
No hater
Trouble you
Trouble me
What's it gonna be?
Depends on your visage
****, I could turn it off
N I do do on occasion
If ya kickin without
The free body vibes
I visit, permission
Can't be a thing
I do wut I want when
I do cause I trust me
You r basic n
Chastened n rope
N chains to the brain
Stuck on level
Seth ***** said
In time you lay stone
Work hurt sometimes
You must crumble
Breakin down
The mortar with
Nightshade in
Spray as pesticide
For the vines tangling
Strangling your
Home, it's unknown
If I gonna grow in
The right way but
I trust me so if
I'm so grown I outgrow
Then I gotta go
No hate
Olivia Kent Nov 2015

Many thoughts of saviours.
Different deities.
Varied idols.
Doctrines unique,
Sometimes similar.
Holy books.
Different sects, yes I said sects.
Buddhists, Mormons, Muslims too,
Hindus, Jews and Rastafarians.
Pass the spliff, that one miffs me.
Too name but only one or two.
Garlands or flowers.
Holy cows.
Churches and temples.
Mosques and mystic synagogues.
Or even halls perpetuating to the Kingdom.
Gis' us a pint of blood or not.
Definitely not vampires,oops I forgot.
"Cup of tea, love?"
Welcome to the Mormons.
Latter day saints?
Jesus Christ, what a choice.
My explanation, I'm agnostic.
But, never on a Sunday.
I don't want converting.
LylexRose Sep 2018
The long time coming now awaits...
Let's ride fast, let's make haste
Got the hoodie pulled up cos I wear no face...
Now let the ladies sing cos I need to concentrate...

This year I've come so far, walking over broken glass has left me scarred, I've understood what it's like to cry, not saying my life was hard, I'm saying it's different to what to you'd expect, but when I out here on the streets you know I don't beg for respect, made my music with feeling of everything building up going though my head, lost songs through mistakes I've made, and I know when you think at the end of the day when life seems that it's all to much just know to look too the light and focus on the music instead, cos I come from a place we're grey skies dominate the streets, when these rain drops fall on your face waiting for a deal to go down, you know it feels so empty just walking around my hometown, just know I've been called sheltered and know it's the ******* they talk when they don't understand the feelings of feeling like you're drowning....

I know it's going down, good lord...
Riding my pace through town...
Attracting the honeys when I sing it loud...
It's time I unwound, feeling kinda aroused, hope it don't affect the sound of my crowd...

Now the streets lights seem to change colour when you see them through my faded eyes, my face shaded out waiting for the man to sell the green so I can get high, let the smoke clear out just so I can see the horizon, it's funny some people don't get it, like they don't understand it, like to dress like a baller but barely making a grand, but just know this music pushed through the space in my mind, destroyed my depression, to my fans I show no oppression, if the music's a little serious then my life is a comedy session, the people I grew with have gone now, have moved along, made they're own path, looking back at me I guess they don't understand that, I been through a dark place, face to face, living with my real family but still feels like I'm being chased, dug myself into grave that I just can't climb out of, they say that fortune favours the brave and I don't need no ladder, don't need to pray, because only God knows I can make it myself, you know I used to never have a say, that never did things my way but now I got a chance to up and leave or change the game if I stay....

 I know it's going down, good lord...
Riding my pace through town...
Attracting the honeys when I sing it loud...
It's time I unwound, feeling kinda aroused, hope it don't affect the sound of my crowd...

Let's just listen to the people speak, but ain't backing me up, they say my future looks bleak, so walk with me and we could be something great you see, I've been told at the root of all evil is something illegal but if you say that then you've never seen **** I've had to deal with, deal it, steal it, this is where the war is, it's why I rap for this ****, so everyone hear can my stories, you don't seem to believe this, I'll whisper it in your ear "this is what work is" and now you all this is how I found my purpose, now let ears do the work, feel no more hurt, used getting beaten, hiding blood stains on my shirt, but anybody wanna know when I take the 10th to the back, knock this ***** with a slap, give him a quick text, show off my face acrawl into his room, I'd **** anyone; for this music I have to protect, waking up covered in blood, smiling down at you and Ill whisper in your ear, you're next!...

 I know it's going down, good lord...
Riding my pace through town...
Attracting the honeys when I sing it loud...
It's time I unwound, feeling kinda aroused, hope it don't affect the sound of my crowd...

Showing these MC'S whose boss, all these other MC'S are lost, all these other MC'S have had enough, all these other MC'S get turned to dust and we all feel the familiar feeling of disgust, all these little people I can here you shout, when I look at my life all I see is devout, to the help I've had, they say the thing that it isn't chosen is family, so would it be a funny thing I disagree, smoking a spliff whilst clutching to the smell of the voice of tenessee whiskey, I'm leaving in 5 but I've been doing this since I was 14, acting like I make bank but struggling behind the curtins, it's a sad thing to see, that I'm just a kid with mummy issues and is a lyrical genius, wanna stand in my shoes, fine but I'm just a boy with a dream whose come so far it's seems like he's losing his passion and forgetting his dreams, it's a shame to see it's ******* I've lost nothing, but I'm only still discovering and it's a shame to see that everybody who was about when this boy has amounted to nothing  going full bearded better know I'm never showing stubble, I'm in outer space just ask Hubble, soaring through stars living out of the bubble, gold wearing and smells like coffee, melting my relationships like toffee and with my feet at the cliffside I just wished it didn't end awfully...

 I know it's going down, good lord...
Riding my pace through town...
Attracting the honeys when I sing it loud...
It's time I unwound, feeling kinda aroused, hope it don't affect the sound of my crowd...
When you think you're lost, keep your eyes to the sky and keep marching on...
Commuter Poet May 2016
Every spliff
Is another step
And another step
Away from
13th May 2016
Brycical Mar 2015
Ha-Ha, Joker's laugh, wildcard coyote
dances a maniac tango, joking
in the midst of elemental chaos--
giggling at the lava, way hot
watching the castle's mortar dissolve, doting
the cacophonous crumbling symphony akin to Amadeus.
Ha-ha, joker's laugh, wildcard coyote
ignites a spliff with incandescent embers, smoking--
up under falling stars getting higher than the Himalayas
and more enlightened as the midnight parades off
into a translucent, steaming ashy bayou, hoping
there's a bite to eat before the heat waves doff
the darkness completely into blinding, hokey
sunbeams reflecting in snow, that cuckoo tune never lost,
Ha-ha, joker's laugh from that wildcard coyote.
a rondeau
Moist Man Nov 2014
A blind dolphin, ready for ****,
sexually attracted to pictures of grapes
the dolphin swims, careful and swift
yells "Fuch tha Police"
and lights a spliff

Wall street, Obama
Homies is dying

- Moist Man
Reece Aug 2013
When I was a kid all I wanted to do was smoke ****
But nowadays its harder stuff that my body really needs
In my teenage yeas smoking on a spliff
It would seem to be a substantial lift
Before long though my depression took hold
Alcohol and cigarettes making me look old
I fell into a bad crowd, moving drugs that were illicit
My life moving so fast I probably could have missed it
MDMA in my system and I felt so loved
Ecstasy wasn't enough to see God above
I experimented with psychedelics and I had a real ball
But my habits got deeper, and my friends, I lost them all
I turned to the streets to pay for my increasing routines
But my job on the street interferes with my dreams
So now I'm just a shadow of my former self
A syringe smiles at me from the bottom shelf
Sometimes I need a little bump just to get my mind right
But often times a bump can turn into a wild night
Sometimes I need to get level with some golden dope
But too much of that **** and my life can lose all hope
I often wonder if my life would be alright
If I was never molested on that dreary night
Fah Aug 2013
for the mother and fathers who build this playground for us to roam ,
respect for the floating flowers sweet seed sprouting into blossoms tree
respect for the love of self - selflessly
respect for the helpers helplessly
respect for the boundaries

rises climatic waves crash onto soft shore
breakfast on the patio
what could one ask for more
then a wake up call without using a phone

last night's revelries spill over into today's serenity
sacred ground
sacred sounds
early bird gets the worm they say

share the love
spread the love , doctors healers
love knows no bounds
but seeks to reach each tip of wing in illuminated golden heart seen on first meeting
glows the fireflies
who light up the night time so bright
nor the wonderlusting princesses moving in her own skin with so much filling to the brim
overspilling with kisses and loves
spilt beers and american dreams turn to dust on the desert plains
and the silken haze hangs low across the city
bike riding race styling high flying
we already die to live to give
we already sing to the silent tunes of water droplets
and bird calls
tree's sigh in daylight delight and fight no one,  not even the night for ...

the tree's photosynthesise by moonlight
leaves drink in the cool wise light and give off dreams of softly fading starlight
and laughing at Jamican tour guides....*exucse me while i light my spliff....har har har har.....and over here is the kitchen...
Gentle homes gentle homes gently home to the highest of hearts.
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
Spliffs bring freedom
Locum doc
won’t prescribe me what I want.
Euthanasia and/or a personality transplant.
A stiff drink and a fat joint.
My baby back from the dead
in our favourite restaurant.
Locum doc, gimme what you got,
whatever the latest cutting-edge medical science
can do for a self-absorbed ****.
Because I’m stumped, I must admit:
I recently quit my millionth spliff,
yet upon a paranoid moon, still I live
with inner monologue so bitter,
my brain’s been hacked by a tweeting ******.
And when the liquor turns Twitler off,
next door’s parrot is a prophet of God.
Apparrotly, Jesus thinks I’m a ****.
So, locum doc, it’s a bit ad hoc,
but will you be my focal point?
Don’t be a total ****, locum doc;
gimme me some vallies and I’ll be off.
Locum doc, let’s be friends
- what do ya mean you won't gimme the tens?
The call center Bunny cannot sit Still.
He's a t-t-t-twitchy *******
with an Easter Grill.
His foot just thumps, and thumps, and thumps, and thumps until.
Receiving a call, now it's ***** to the wall.
He's Makin' a Deal.

Welcome to the Magic Bean order center My name is thump~

Tricks are for kids.
I'm 100 years old tomorrow,
I'm not placing a bid.
I'm calling about that free sample,
can you do that or not?"
"Brace for impact boys" Says Thumper.
"She's coming in hot."

Up to the plate with Rapport.
A ******* and a Miss.
"That's a great question, deary."
As he lights up a spliff.
Now the Dinosaur responded,
Well it was more like roaring.
Through the headset this woman
Led on quite a story
Most men would be huffing and puffing as she blew their house down.
But thumper sat there patiently
Turned her frown right around.

He pulled a lot more than grass
Out of his basket of Candy
"Listen here, kiddo.
You have a chance to be happy."
Get a Bunny enough paint.
He turns ******' Picasso.
"What's that beautiful?
You gonna let that rock go?"

"If you mail your wedding ring today.
We'll throw in an extra back bone."

This ******' rabbit Is tamin' raptors
on the phone like Chris Pratt.
He reads The wrap-up verbatim
Then does a victory lap.

The call center Bunny cannot sit Still.
He's a t-t-t-twitchy *******
with an Easter Grill.
His foot just thumps, and thumps, and thumps, and thumps until.
"Hey Thumper."
His little bunny smirk seems to
Spot himself a thrill.

"Seems like everybunny here is taking' Adderall."
So he pops and he smokes
He snorts and he cokes.
lines back up
with a wink, a pill, a couple less bucks.

Waves goodbye to the boss.
Swivels down in his spinny spot.
Snaps one headphone to his ear hole
Then stares attentive at the clock.

Tick tock tick
The bunny vibrates as he wait.
Usually he not so wide eyed
more drifting or asleep.
big white dress feet over
keyboard and mouse.
His tie pulled loose,
his ego is out.
The Pink bunny looks
seems to whistle and shout.
The bathroom stall is empty
where they usually hang out.
So they set AQE.
Though their meeting be brief.
It was Tactical.
***** relief.
With her cotton tail up,
Her skirt to her knees.
Their paws on their flaws
A nibble for His carrot
Her Cadbury thong.
Got this pink bunny dialing
up against the wall.
you heard the thump, and thump, and thump, and thump and call.

For The call center Bunny
who can NOT sit Still.
He's a t-t-t-twitchy *******
with an Easter Grill.
Her foot just thumps, and thumps, and thumps, and thumps until.
Receiving a call, now it's ***** to the wall. She's Makin' a Deal
This Poem Is not about Thumper.
The backspace on my keyboard has been broken
for well over a year.
I drank beer, *** and orange.
Smoked hash spliff. Felt better about this wrongness

that surrounds my view of the world.
Desperately in need of some chemical respite,
Serious consideration given to antidepressants as
a way out of this and into fitness, all the viable options.

Ah, perhaps some poems should leave well alone, but
this is the truth
so bear with it. I don't feel like I choose to see what I see,
Nor think these gossamer thoughts.
Bless those who bear with you
in your hour of need.
Sitting in de street
Spitting out a reggae beat
Rollin up a sticky spliff
Jammin out a reggae riff
JAH knows I take the fattest hit
"**** this ****** is strong as ****!"
I see a glint in the eye of a guy
On de street, just passin by
He flicks some cash in me cup, and I begin to smile;
For in my heart of hearts I know, he feels my reggae style
I was out wit me doopas.
I was wailin' on a massive blunt.
Feet up, eased up, havin' a blem time.
All of a sudd'n, de fuzz comes out front.

There's nowhere to hide.
Gotta rid the scene of me stuff.
Look back and de fuzz ain't der.
Decide to take one last puff.

De sirens start shriekin'
Dey're almost here, no where to go.
Do I stick me sliff in de ground?
I stuff it up me nose.

Sense of smell is lost from de heat.
Feels like a fresh poptart was squeezed in me snout.
De burning tingles, very bad, very bad.
About to cry when de cops see me, no time to shout.

He walks a little closer, I cringe.
An island bwai wouldn't last in prison
For de love of Zion, don't get caught.
Finally we're face-to-face, I start ******'

De man looks down at de pool of ****
He asks, "that's the hiding spot you chose?"
He rips da spliff rite outta me snout.
Dat's why you never stuff it up ya nose.
Don't worry, dis didn't 'appen. It's just a joke you nutty kids.
Brycical Aug 2013
A Brittish psychedelic
Benjamin Button.

Maverick explorer
54 years young.

A groovy dude connected to Dahab since the 70's.
Sure doesn't hurt he knows the folks who own the land.

A kindly herb surgeon, the man knows how
to live, give and roll a spliff.

Enjoyed your company
swapping stories and smokes.

Keep on,
hang loose
and be cool.
I've got an old buddy named Cliff
And boy-o, could he roll a spliff!
He'd roll it up tight
I'd hand him a light
But always pass out from one whiff!
Written for my good pal, Ranger Rick (he's a park ranger)(and a business teacher)
Nova Flames Jun 2013
***! my brother, is so destructive, he treats even a jewel like its *******
he is soo stubborn, he gets under my skin like sunburn, but in the end he's still my brother.
i wouldnt have in any other, why? cuhz he down for the fam like southern? lol  

i realized people you can never govern but even currently as he proceeds to walking on the second story on his FREAKEN KNEES! i realize i must make a compromise that there might be something about me he doesnt agree with,, so lets avoid the conflict cuhz it looks like a slippery cliff,,, *** is he doing upp there sounds like artillery ships and ****!!!, im about to throw this fit,, but my homeboy like na flames here smoke this spliff,, na NAGA my mind is a gift and you kn ow im trying to quit!,, witch brings me across the next subject,,, i suspect my inner demons which demoralize my drive to subside with most high take my closest friends minds for a joyride,,, undercover like a spy to poison my ambitions to stay sober im so bipolar, being high is mediocre but when mind is clear i tend to turn into that ogre,,,i feel as if all is hopeless,,, i live in the moment i live in the ocean,, i think my name is Joseph,, and i sleep on my best friend sofas,,, i dont know where this story is going, long as i continue typing i guess its my way of coping i guess its my way of invoking,,,,
I remember being friends with a girl who spoke like a fawn and was as thin as a stick. Her face naturally beautiful, her eyes gleaming with happiness. A pageant queen. A cheerleader. But when she told me about protein shakes as fillers for meals I learnt that the happiness was fake. No matter how much she got, who she saw and met, no matter how many "Miss Teen Canada" titled she won, she would be unhappy. She has constant girlfriends come and go, each her own lovely and unique thinspiration; a collage of limbs and bones she aspired to be. Her obsessions took a hold of her for six years, making her sad, delusional, crazy, until the point she hit the 89 pound mark. Until she ended back up in a hospital. I told her I cared. I meant it, too, but I knew the voices in her head were all too loud to hear my truth of her. The truth of a brilliant, talented girl. Sometimes being called "beautiful" is not always a compliment"

I know a boy of european descent. Born in Bulgaria, raised in Canada for just a couple of years. His English got really good after sixth grade, and that's when we finally became friends. I guess now you can say we're best friends. To my expected surprise he turned out to be gay. And to my surprise, it seemed like there was something deeper. He recently sold himself, something that can now only be a shell or a casket. His parents didn't know he was 29. Or that he was gay. i thought about all the fun times- all the sassiness, the dumb jokes, the radio job- and it made me think how much of that was for show. A fake smile. A talented, lively comedian. One that hid behind crude jokes that portrayed a reality all too real to him. Someone who has silently suffered for far too long. I wish he didn't. I wish he didn't have to hide. I am always scared that his last word he hears will be a derogatory one.

There was a girl I was very jealous of. She was my best friend, and creativity flowed through her like a waterfall starting at her heart. She was everything I wanted to be- intelligent, beautiful(in the natural stunning way) and thin. She was so thin. She had impeccable music taste, and we bonded over that. Despite the ******* rock we use to hit the **** to, she enjoyed classical music. She liked being alone. And although she was a self proclaimed optimist, she would hide away her guilt and sadness. I knew she was like me. We both took cold showers while we layed on the bath floor, hoping our hearts would freeze. We would walk the streets of downtown Toronto, praying that the night would swallow us whole. We would *** smokes off of older men in hot leather that rode Harley Davidson's that secretly wanted to **** us. And our cigarette smoke would stick to our summer-kissed skin, and id be even more jealous of how she became tanner and I began to look like a pale little ghost. She was lovely but cheated on. A young looking boy with a galaxy of freckles on this universal boy-band face. He ended up being wrong. The galaxy turned dark black, the boy-band tunes into soft, somber cries. Her cries. I remember having to sit back and watch while I rolled a spliff; I thought about it when I was being caressed too. Optimism can make you see brighter days, but it doesn't stop the hurting your heart will face.

There was a boy I knew who use to smoke his lungs away with **** and french kissed death with pills drowning in alcohol. There was a boy I knew who always use to skip class, but came every once in a while to let the teacher know he was alive. The boy grew too fast, or maybe too slow, or both. One part to reliable and the other too aware. He knew all the causes but never the solutions. He would always fight with anger because he never knew love. No one ever loved him. Instead, i picture him going home, parents neglecting him as he, the lost boy, goes up to his room. Closes the door, drops the blinds, cries. "Be a man" the voices say, but he can't tonight. He focusses too ******* the pain (it's finally something he can focus on). And there was this boy, who dug his nails into his palms, drank until he couldn't see; swinging punches and hitting air as his opponent was strung out on the other side of the room. I never knew if lost boy would cut himself to drain out his sadness or if he snorted more lines to forget what was lying in front of him. I wondered show long it would take lost boy to put the gun to his head and call it quits, how long till his name flashed on the news. Lost boy eventually drowned himself in the bottle, finished the pills, ran out of money and now we don't ever hear from him. He's just lost.

-teenage experience

This was a very important piece for me to write. Each paragraph is symbolic and explains someone I know and the struggles that they are going through. This can be related back to real life teen issues arising in todays society. This includes eating disorders, acceptance from the straight community if you're gay/any other ****** orientation, being cheated on and substance abuse. I would appreciate if everyone read and respected this piece, as I stated before that these are real teenage experiences. Thank you.
Moist and monochrome, clouds are gathering
On a Sunday afternoon.
Look up idly from my browsing, at the building 'cross the pool
Winds picks up, the monsoon breezes
Lick at the curtains twelve floors up
On the terrace, woman standing
Arms outstretched, grasp the rail

Legs stressed back, footloose in sandal
Lightly muscled, slightly formed
Kimono slips from lighted shoulder, designer ****** strawberry brown
Fabric glides across the hip-line
Revealing all to me below
Wearing nothing on the landing
Hint of shadow, ***** mound.

From the sliding doors behind her
Steps a man not quite unseen
Waist encircled in one movement, undergarment stripped away
Rigid stillness then the thrusting
Tension mounting at the breath
Woman gasps the O shape forming
Through her silent, varnished lips

Mahler moaning on the ITunes
Waves are forming, silent sound
Thrusting, busting, flexing, *******, arching back crescendo reached
Sun comes out, just at that moment
Roads diverging in the wood
Disconnecting, and uncoupling
Might and maybe should and aught

Trembling  fingers, taught in temper
Blink the eye and pop the top
Shaking hands that hold the taper, to the unformed smoking spliff
**** the wreaths in, breathe the thought out
Bottle clinks across the teeth
Unbelieving, unconcealing
Unrelieving, unreleased
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 *****
Ja feel?

— The End —