"spliffs" poems
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.
******
hErb
Green
Grass
****
Everything Cook and Curry (Reggae term for "Everything is Fine")
REGGAE
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
My dear summers dream was to the taste cream
Pass me the triple beam the microphone fiend
Back on the scene simplicity is your complexity
So amazingly like grace I be rockin' the place
Like we Studio 54 shut down the doors
Once the bubbly pours and the **** adores
Ya mental **** ya sentimentals and these new aged millennials
They too satirical I make miracles flow potholes
Creatin' mass mayhem your an inconvenience
Cuz of ya hesitance my presence is known
Without even being shown paragraphs of stone
Hard to crack waxing tracks like a shark attack
Felonious acts we never back down
Til my soul drown in the core of the earth
Royalties since birth new my worth they tried to mirth
At my pain tryna change the game cuz all these cowards
Saying the same thang got dang got dang
Time to chess box like Wu Tang leavin' a stain
On ya reign no tears though I'll be on solo
Rippin' up instrumentals ya know how we do so...yeahhh
From the Sunny to bees that make the honey
Sticky icky like my spliffs be call me smokey
Puttin' fire to mother natures forests check the creases I
unleashes
Rap game mafiaso so so better back back
Or else get dropped lika Domino so here we go!
Here we go!
With the ghetto jams love girls with the derriere's of Pam
Got **** once again it's time to slam
Mics harder than Shawn Kemp ya flows shrimp
That's why ya girl calls me Mr **** no limp
Slick as Rick hello young world tilt and a whirl
Catch the swirl of Qatar Pearls on the neck of ya girl
Suckas better know I'm coming with a blow
Harder than Bowe combined with a super glow
black Saiyan raps slayin' turntables layin'
So I can get wicked lyrics Pickett
like Wilson
Flows in unison formation
of words
Herds a violent surge
feel the purge
We high rising no disguisin'
knockin' out Suckas who jivin' ain't none survivin' ?
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Reggae
Power
Love
Spliffs
Zion
Temptations
Marley
Pussay
Dank
******
REGGAE
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
Baa, baa, Green sheep,
Have you any kush?
Yeh, mon, yeh, mon,
Three bongs full;
One hit for ma tyke,
And one for ma ****
And one for the batti boi
Who lives by caribe.
Baa, baa, Green sheep,
Have you any ******
nah, mon, nah, mon,
no spliffs mon;
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 1:17 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
Ko Ko to Go Go
a prelude to a kiss
dance with Chubby Checker
lift a slo gin fizz
Head bobs to Be Bop
flip the B Side now
mellowtune in monotone
two ears for stereo wow!
Wonderment of Duke and Miles
swinging kool birthin boplicity
urban crush the hipsters rush
jazz joints cross the city
Firery sax emote a clash
strain ears of credulity
Lester leaps creative heat
nips harden on my *******
Max taps exotic wax
Django's quick pickin
finger snaps flip my lid
lips deliciously sippin
Eurozone a Zen zone
a blue infinitive smokin
big peeps dig don pink wigs
fat spliffs hot token
My new suede shoes
walks west end blues
Pop's cornet got me tippin
his open blast first to last
I like cornbread, barbecue
and fine home jazz cookin
jbm
Oakland
3/12/10
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
Alice and I were fudged fruiting inside Falstaffian freakish fleur–de–lys:
She inside a quack–aztec–tattooed tank,
Me inside a pendulous magenta harness with polydactyl–perverted plumes bespattered into it.
In the ****** **** of that kaput flophouse
We creosoted our conks all the cockatrices of the gorge–de–pigeon,
Inside crotches, Jacuzzis and homocentric Action Men.
Alice, with the pornographic bend sinisters in the teeth of her poltergeistish fajita crocodile,
Smacked of the plug–ugly poofter of a south–south–west by south sackful sandbank.
I cemented the jaundiced dangler of an ostrich to my prick.
With that and my uncut fiddlestick of knobs
I was the idiosyncratic and wholehogging sadomasochistic slapper!
We banged the bush streaming proboscis in tentacle
Through smorgasbords of hermaphrodites and high muck–a–mucks
While Ravi Shankar’s idioglossias and cockchafers juddered our titbits.
Our Moonies were classically cracked flabelliform by the time we disinterred them.
Alice managed to fornicate incognito white elephant on behalf of myself
And we were passionately on the back of the dingdong, naked as our Moonies.
We kept one’s pecker up wrapped up in the shadowgraph
Athwart ever-strangling girdles of formaldehyde, ozone, fomenter and widow’s weeds,
Athwart polytetrafluoroethylene–pricked precipices and then down to the butts
Where we both came to a sticky end on our jockstraps and leered at the ballet dancers
That we then penetrated rhythmically by elongating tumescent our gang banging tentacles.
Through comfortable French knickers I burped, “Thank you for ****** me everywhere, Alice”.
In the soporific honeypotspunk, aped on the ooze,
I could smell that her **** had made her ******* type soap flakes break the sound barrier,
Splashing out a ***** whale seed skirting her jowls.
“You’re fragrant, flypaper”, she rapped.
The Government gabble that little green men who hammer out the sexagenarians weren’t on board.
Inside spleen of the spliffs, inside spleen of my gangrenous Pollyanna, I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
Whiffs of spliffs
Hand rolled, prime
Cliffs and dime
bags, fuego
green to black
and more green, beach
mouth full of peanut butter
super blunt
sundays
Whales and rolling
papers make fun
daze, I'm gone.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 3:40 AM UTC
On the fifth day of Reggae Christmas
My boombastic love gave to me:
5 smokin' spliffs
4 grams of purple
3 beautiful bowls
2 boombastic bongs
and a brand new marijuana tree.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC
Under a large, round, yellow
Full November moon
The chill of the cold, dark night
Slips in through my window
It fights against the heating
To send a shuddering shiver down my spine
Under the full November moon
People spill out of noisy pubs
Leaving heat, light, music
A false, inebriated happiness
To stagger, swirling home
To warm beds of love
Or cold, empty houses
And late night T.V.
Under the full November moon
Teenager's breath leaves clouds in the air
Hanging heavy and mingling with smoke
From spliffs secretly held in cupped hands
Hanging around shops, parks
Even the disappearing phone boxes
Feeling the arrogance of youth
Course through their veins
Under the full November moon
The middle aged sit
In armchairs with tea mugs
T.V. droning as they dream of their youth
When they were slim and ****
Or hungry and virile
Before it all slipped so quickly away
Under the full November moon
Swingers swap flesh and fluids
In hotels and motels
With no more passion or emotion
Than passing the salt
Under the full November moon
Prostitutes haul their tired, aching bodies
From car to car for the price of a hit
The dealers swagger, stoked full of *******
With the power and arrogance of mediaeval lords
Under the full November moon
People sweat in police cells
Under grey, itchy blankets
On blue rubber mattresses
In a white - tiled nightmare
Under the full November moon
I think of them all
As I sir writing ideas
In a cheap, lined pad
Then turn off the lights
As the full November moon
Bids goodnight
To us all
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 4:06 PM UTC
We wish you a Reggae Christmas,
We wish you a Reggae Christmas,
We wish you a Reggae Christmas,
And also some kush.
Good ****** we bring,
To you and your spliffs.
We wish you a Reggae Christmas
And also some kush.
Now play us some fresh Bob Marley,
Now play us some fresh Bob Marley,
Now play us some fresh Bob Marley,
And we'll jam out some too.
We won't smoke until ya roll some,
We won't smoke until ya roll some,
We won't smoke until ya roll some,
So bring dem right here
OH **** please don't green-out,
OH **** please don't green-out,
OH **** please don't green-out,
That was a close call. PHEW!
Good ****** we bring,
To you and your bluntz.
We wish you a Reggae Christmas,
And a Happy Blem Year.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
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.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
On the eighth day of Reggae Christmas
My boombastic love gave to me:
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.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
On the ninth day of Reggae Christmas
My boombastic love gave to me:
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.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
On the tenth day of Reggae Christmas
My boombastic love gave to me:
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.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
On the sixth day of Reggae Christmas
My boombastic love gave to me:
6 blazin' bubblers
5 smokin' spliffs
4 grams of purple
3 beautiful bowls
2 boombastic bongs
and a brand new marijuana tree.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
Scratch my back
I bite yours
I come from ***** **** and tantric
Tongue twisting magic
Body fluids
and spent ***
Animals **** Animalistically
Too bad
if they catch you ****** in the street
they stop selling you coffee, and **** in your food
Alley cats learn
the back roads
behind the dumpster
Spark spliffs and spin sick rhymes
bendin over with the bass
and the throbbin over bubblin
bizkids this is how we burn in the mornin
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 8:56 AM UTC
(After the poem by Shinji Moon)
Lucy’s smoking spliffs out the window
and I keep thinking about how I’ll probably
always love you
a little bit.
We haven’t spoken in months,
but tonight New York is sleeping under 24 inches of snow,
and the last time I was in a blizzard
I was 16,
and in Chicago,
and the softness of it made me think of you.
Everyday I pass by this flower shop in Brooklyn
and I steal a tulip to pluck
like I’m forgetting you in petals.
Photosynthesis is another word for heartbreak.
The truth is I think of you often.
Sometimes I make eye contact with strangers
and wish they’d look at me the way you used to,
or say my name like they were tasting a truffle,
like the Italian word Rimembrare,
or a drag of a cigarette.
I’m trying to stop smoking.
I wanted to tell you
that I’m not afraid of the wind anymore,
and in the past 2 years
I’ve drifted through so many places but keep finding synonyms for you
in every map
or language guide.
And I guess only you know why that would hurt.
I remember almost nothing about you already
except that you loved the story
about the seagull who taught himself to fly,
and the way you laughed,
like you were imitating
oceans.
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
Our quiet dispositions made for a double-edged sword, as we sat on blood-stained sheets, littered with stems and shredded tobacco bits.
Listening to "Blowing It" by Dinosaur Jr. I realized I, too, didn't know a thing to say to you. We seemed similar, in a way to a certain extent.
He had a stick and poke on his thigh that said "NO"
and we ****** Casually.
========================================================================
"I think you're cute and I like that you're tall."
"I think you're cute too and it's nice that you like that."
========================================================================
We smoked spliffs and talked about how it was nice to be dating multiple people.
And what it's like to have a sugar mama,
And that crack is an underrated drug,
And that I should meet more people who like The Velvet Underground,
And how we both like beer, IPAs,
And how I smelled nice,
And how I shouldn't have chosen "Women" of Bukowski's to read first,
And that he should read "Slaughterhouse-Five", and I was willing to give him my copy
(The blood on my sheets wasn't mine, he had skinned knees.)
It was odd, but also nice, to meet someone with a similar disposition to me,
but there was nothing incendiary to hang on to, more just a slow warmth.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
Oh! saturday nights spent
wishing for my father to come early
and tell me "I love you"
Sunday nights spent awake
waiting for his return
to drive me to school on monday mornings
How my mother, my little brother and me
curse the day he became best friends with John
Knowing John changed it all
all board games now in the back of our wardrobes
with dust on top of them
waiting to rot
Sometimes, I waste my birthday wishes
pretending they'll work out
wishing for my father
to have never met John
My little brother and me,
now replaced for slot machines,
gambling tables and spliffs
Give me a hint, dad
should I still call you like that? Nah.
Now I've met this "so called John"
and I do not like him
he makes me do funny stuff
His silhouette is bright
and he uses a cane
I don't like him, "dad"
Please stop seeing him
I know you say
he helps you to get through
but does he help us? No!
Maybe one day mom will have the guts
to sign that divorce paper
and hand it to you
I hope she do it soon
The saddes part is, when I asked you to quit John,
you said, No.
"Why?"- I said.
"Because Johnnie is the only one who tells me to keep walking".
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
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.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
I'm Runnin Jews like Lil Dicky
Run the Jewels, and Ricky
With soso flow of Biggie
Ever since I quit the ciggie
Livin life straight propper
Givin props to Big Poppa
I'm off the spliffs and poppas
Writin riffs for beats that drop ya
Lingerie ladies who have
Curved bodies tight Mercedes
Hot as Hades 420 degrees
Just hot enough to chrisp my cheese
Torchin these trees
Straight from Belieze
Blowin Bolivian keys up they ***
As their friends ends they pass
None of y'all thought this Jew could last
Two days past your last meal
Didn't really know how to feel
Cause I ****** you so raw
Y'all got mistook for veal
That means hyper tender
No allussion to child *** offender
Call me a money stack lender
Back ****** but never a pretender
If I split her in half
God'll have ta mend her
This **** is known to send ya
Into bliss quick
That feeling'll stick
When the tip touch they lower lip
They get oil slick
Just the thought get's 'em hotta than a candle wick
Though you know I don't flow with no trick
Start off slow so we can show each other
Our flame be sure not to smother
Like an over protective mother
Reflect on it while it's lit
Climb inside my mind
See how I visualize thee
Undress and become pantiless
You're sittin on my face
I impress with the pace
I carress your **** with tongue
Spell sinless you'll be a wet well
When you see how well I'm hung (do tell)
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC