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july hearne Apr 2018
fifteen thousand days
for things to go wrong

it was just one of those fifteen thousand days
where things didn't go so well
that was today,

in my time
there is no more time
only stoner time
and five dollar andre wine
marked down to 4.99

tired of the everyday loser
in the last of light
hating sunday nights
for all they're worth
for all their worth
change the tense to the time,

in my time,  there is no more time
only stoner time
i couldn't make the distinction
in time
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gdoUIgWZ5c&index=2&list=FLXopt9nnBkenZ2qfc_VCXeA





at least bill cosby got handed a guilty verdict,
so much for america's dad telling everyone to pull up their pants
while he wore his patchwork robe and ***** all those women
Joshua Haines Apr 2016
Sheers of shimmering gloss grace her torso.
And I have broken her bones,
imploring that I love her so.
Blueberry lips belly the cold;
hold her too deep, hold her I'm told.

I.

He says Call me Mr. G.
G for Gore, Greed, that Green.
An atypical stoner
with hair wetter than his mouth.
With more ******* than a pound,
he says, With an understanding of
all the suffering in the global delusion
that is the Earth. Mr. G, his name.

Oily brunette, Mr. G., would smoke
Marlboro Green Blend -- menthol --
and spit shot out between stained lips
after each extracurricular exhale.
The saliva would land, tremendously,
and puddles of Rasta shooting stars
would lay, stretching across concrete galaxy.

Hazel eyes invaded and shamed him,
for he wished to be green, like life,
but only envisioned a contradiction:
death (see nature),
for which he learned to embrace, stoically,
like a shepherd of an endangered breed
meant to die among skewed perspective.

II.

This house could be mistaken
for a cinderblock purgatory;
between color and absence of,
eternal and temporary.

A raptor laughter purged the tension --
he abided by no accommodation of civility.
As smoke followed his hyena howl,
the landline lay suddenly of purpose.

Resin raided the clunky, black buttons;
a voice was whispered like a blue phantom:
*******' cheese, pineapple, pepperoni
-- no, extra ******' cheese, extra pep --
Sure, add some more pep with your driver:
he, she -- honestly, man -- they better have
pep-in-their-******-step-you-feel?

Minutes passed like sentient matchbooks
dropping towards a skeletal fire.
G threw the phone across the room
and, like a disenchanted drunk dance,
his words wobbled over each other,
I ordered a 'za, a pizza for the layman.
About thirty, probably thirty-one
minutes, that is.

Passing me the flower-stitched ****,
I ****** in one, maybe two, three,
blasts that I swore
had some sort of nano-insects
bite and burrow into the holes
of my sponge for a throat.

Wringing my rubbery neck,
watching my words leave my toothy cave,
I found out that G doesn't believe in beer.
Believes in souls but not beer,
believes in green men, not beer.

Alcoholic splash is what we all need,
at times. So I told him the obvious,
I'm going to get a case of
(Insert your ****** choice)
and I'll be back as soon as possible.

G stared at me and made a guttural noise,
Do whatcha please, I'll stay here and
protect us from vampires.
You know, blood-suckas.

Pale stoner vampires.


III.

The leather painted door was wide open
like the legs of ominous spider cave,
but the doors of a car
I had never seen before
were as closed as the lips of a VCR.
There's nothing but silence in these situations --
is this one of those situations? Grassy knoll?

Approaching the mouth of purgatory,
I entered with the hesitancy of a lost dog.
On the plastic covered couch,
two people sat atop the invisible cloud
above the patterned fabric
and above the fingers of time.

Blonde hair sprouted from her scalp,
raining down upon vanilla shoulder blades,
her chest a harbor for two pale, freshly mounds,
with crooked, beige diamonds in the center.

She trembled when G said, Meet Steph
-- can I call you Steph, Steph? --
Meet Steph, the artist formerly known as
Stephanie, holding up her licence,
Vanmeter, of 441 1/2 Locust Ave.

That's creepy, huh, Steph? Locust Ave?
Are you something that lives in the ground,
comes up every several years, making noise?
Has this been years in the making?
Are you bound to make noise in my house?

You know this is a house, right?
Whatsa matter, unfamiliar due to ya
living-in-the-*******-ground
or is it because you share a house,
an apartment, Steph? Is it one of those?
Pizza deliveries ain't paying the bills?

G gets up, I, a coward, approaching him
about to say -- Hold up, brother, he says.
Not another move, pulling his hand from
behind her shaking, confused head,
a silver cannon an extension of his arm.

She's here to **** our blood,
She's here to ****. our. blood.
Whether she means to or not,
I know you don't think you want to, Steph,
I know you don't mean to,
But you're here to
drain-us-like-the-Red-Cross.

I tell G that she isn't,
What have you done, G,
You need to let her go
before this gets worse.
That cliche dialogue.
Because these things always do,
cliche or not.

Brother, you don't understand these things
-- It's impossible for a godless man
to understand the mechanisms
of something bigger, something holy --
but you need to listen, G said, You need to --
she tried to move, quickly,
but G grabbed her by her blonde strands,
pulled her back towards the couch,
She swiped at his eye, drawing blood.

There was a pause, a deathly silence,
by the hair, she was rendered motionless,
Oh, no, he echoed, Love, you shouldn't,
You ought not do those things.
Looking at me, he asked me to listen,
Always remember this wasn't your fault.
Sometimes, you can't be in control

Holstering her neck with his gun hand,
G picked her up, slamming her,
head first,
into the drug covered,
resin sprinkled
coffee table.

He dropped on top of her,
Looked at me, Remember, okay?
and beat her head with the **** of the gun,
until the cracking of a larger M&M; shell
muffled towards all eardrums,
maybe even hers.

With blood,
that could be mistaken as war paint,
swimming across his jaw and neck,
and sprinkled on his forehead,
G whispered, You are free,
and I was never sure
who he was talking about.

My feet left before I did,
I was suddenly in my car
with only the ignition
and G's voice registering.
I passed car after car,
pastel metal wagon after
metallic matte creation,
not sure if I ever saw him,
not sure if he ever existed,
if I ever existed.

IV.

Sheers of shimmering gloss grace her torso.
And I have broken her bones,
imploring that I love her so.
Blueberry lips belly the cold;
hold her too deep, hold her I'm told.

Waking up in a cavern darkness,
my dreams disintegrate from my eyes,
swirl in my headspace, evaporating to
heaven knows where.

Scattered pitter-patter
drowns midnight Seattle,
killing and washing away
cluttered, modern filth,
******* carnivorous minds
into hungrier gutters.

This is the part
where the screen of my life reveals:
SIX MONTHS LATER,
in yellow, stenciled letters.
But what it wouldn't say is
how I still feel like I'm dipped
in the ink of Ithaca, NY.

If this were the indulgent
autobiography of my life
it wouldn't say that
the distance doesn't matter,
because that'd be a lie;
I feel like I have only escaped myself.

The rain swells, sounding as
thick as blood, swishing around
the veins of the city.

Stephanie dies every night,
disappearing and reappearing
behind secret doors only she can open.

When she comes to me in sleep,
she is baptized in green, head caved,
Forget-Me-Nots sprouting
between fragmented skull
and select spots of brain soil,
the flowers singing jazz
with a different voice, every time.

One time she spoke.
With blueberry lips that belly cold,
she sounds like my mother:
I am so proud of you, she statically says.
You saved me. Remember.

V.

To be continued.
Half of "Godless". Any feedback, good or bad, is appreciated.
july hearne Jul 2017
he was forty but lied about his age,
told everyone he looked young for his age,
and still shopped at hot topic

he is in late forties now, still thinks he looks young,
and still shops at hot topic

he buys the same stuff that people were buying
in the 80's before hot topic existed

he describes himself as having such a brilliant mind that he is easily bored with people. he is an intj, so this means that he knows everything. he is very intelligent according to the re-occuring craigslist misc. romance ads he has been posting for the last decade.

when he gets inspired, he updates his fetlife profile
(or his ok cupid profile)

i met him when i was too alone, but not numb enough yet
he kept on telling me that depressed people were really just narcissists who couldn't stop thinking about themselves

i couldn't tolerate him, but had nothing else to do, so i had to be drunk and ****** at all times in his presence and i don't drink very often
prior to that i was only a weekend stoner,
but that changed real quick

he made himself too comfortable
and bought me a bob dobbs book for my birthday
because he thought and still thinks bob dobbs is hilarious

he kept on using my bathroom for long periods of time
and bringing the bob dobbs book in with him every time

i told him he could keep the bob dobbs book
but he said, "no, it's more the kind of book that i want to read when i come over and use your bathroom"
so i swallowed the throw up in my mouth, asked him to leave, threw the book away, and never had anything to do with him after that.

shortly thereafter, he started diagnosing me and every other woman who is not attracted to him as having borderline personality disorder via craigslist missed connections and/or his fetlife profile (which i still read for laughs).

then he broke into my apartment through the back door the night before he got married to a woman who needed a green card. i'm not sure why he did that, i'll never know. he broke the door, so it wouldn't shut properly anymore and i smashed my fingers in it once while trying to shut it. my fingernails fell off.

and this is why i have been celibate for the last 7 and half years.
he is also a vegan who eats cheese, fish, and chicken.

the woman who needed the greencard ended up divorcing him.

i really like the tags feature on this site.
Daniel Kenneth May 2014
Dead beat loner trapped in a world
Soon to be stoner not moving forward
Friends off to college, mistakes of the past
Keep him stuck at home, life changed so fast
From bright with a future to dumb soon to die
Chain smoking cigarettes, maybe tonight is the night
Sick in the head, broken down mind
Illness killed potential, future died those nights
Flirting with death while my love was asleep
Nobody to help me, nobody to set me free
One man army always doomed to fail
One man army, now a corpse so pale
Patrick McCombs Dec 2010
You've  worn down the souls of your shoes.
Looks like you've blown a fuse
***** hit the fan
your left without a plan
Everyones moving and your standing still
Popping that little white pill
Laughing and singing as time slips away
What do you have to display?
A stroll with no end in sight
A stoner's rich delight
Stand up or stand down
There's no other way around
Time to get new shoes
Time to stop singing the rich boy blues
Get your **** straight
And clear off your plate
Kayotic Tragedy Feb 2016
Spinning in a downward spiral
Like a sickness going viral
Bringing down the life of many
Sinking to the sea...
Screaming, crying 'help me out'
No one listens to her shout
Falling beneath the crashing waves
Of social acceptance...
She's breathing, not living
She wonders if she's worth saving
From the peer pressure from those above
To get out of the addiction to drugs...
Sam Barger Dec 2013
So no one told you **** was gonna cost this much (clap clap clap clap) Your jobs a joke, you're broke, Can't even buy some lunch. It's like you're always stuck to scraping rez, But, When you can't afford **** or food, you can thank our Pres-i-dent, But, I will smoke with you, until my baggy is no more, I will smoke with you, like I've smoked you up before, I will smoke with you, Because you've smoked with me too.
Jenna Richardson Jun 2013
Lend me your crimson
tinted telescope lens.
I can see you now
glittering out there
in alien sands.
Green lungs,
like neon lights,
ignite to match your joint.

Pantomime of a stoner,
I see you better in the dark,
while I lie wrapped in the sheets
of your second-hand smoke.
It all bleeds from my head over the walls
I try to bleed but they just was not high enough
can't teast what I have hidden away
the secert passage of time
or be it as it may?

Sounding like a stoner
need it not be it

I try to understand FOCUS
on the dark part FOCUS
on the lost part FOCUS
scratch the whisper in my mind FOCUS

feeling  Excited yet weik
it comes from the sand

DON'T REACT
QUIT!
Bring it all out of me

falling....
Falling......
Falling.........
Say it again & again

SUFFER

hold it underneath
little red sneakers

TENDER

Quit...can you hear it?

Just a strum of you're guitar
do you really know the real me?
Why is it you look so uncomphterbul?
To me we all look exactly the same

DO IT!

So we forgive & forget
and move on
so scary how together we seem to melth away
and if you blink you miss it
then feel it on the flore
time is just another lie

unsatisfactory

DON'T BELIEVE IT

skito 666
This was never a poem, just the writing I do to calm myself
it's allways scary things I don't even remember
or understand, sometimes it's good so I hold on to it like this one.
Written in 2007
Bellis Tart Oct 2010
I am stoner,
watch me soar!

I am a handle,
that opens your door.

I am the sunshine,
which keeps you so warm.

I am the wind,
that fuels this storm.

I am a smile,
to a stranger on the street.

I am a cupcake,
too pretty to eat.

I am a lake
for you to escape from heat.

I am a steak,
though I don't condone eating meat.

I am a girl,
the madonna and the *****.

I am stoner,
and so much more.
(c)  05/10/10
Damaré M Aug 2013
Do you have to get high to feel more fly? 
Soft *** stoner 
I'm more blunt when I'm sober 
Excuse me to the real dudes who use ****
I know how it be 
But if you only smoke because it's trendy 
Right now your life is pending 
Because you not downloaded 
You buffering 
Losing connection 
I can't respect it 
Your life isn't hectic 
You had to use other folks addresses 
Just to get public school lessons 
Never got a suspension 
Detention because you wasn't paying attention 
You wasn't throwing pencils 
Or raising up dresses 
Or erasing the "warm up" messages
Or guessing during benchmark testing 
Word I heard you was a nerd 
And that's cool
But don't have tape in between 'yo glasses then grow up to gain bad habits 
That's backwards 
Thought life was all about progress 
You have a background which is flawless 
But for acceptance 
You start making exceptions 
I do it for the breathless 
And of my God I don't question 
Exclamation 
To all perpetuation 
But hesitation 
I don't condone perpetration 
Why dissemble on some **** that isn't providential?
Everyone who practically had no choice now want a way out 
Little *** kids you didn't even weigh in 
How did you find your way in? 
That's from real men being pliant
For all you cats who trying 
Stop 'yo lying 
When I'm around Amateurs come in silence 
Like what's a scavenger to a lion? 
About time for all of you late bloomers to become compliant
sometimes I don't like being a loner
but I guess its better than being a stoner
I am caught in mellow drama
kids these days hooked on marijuana
I will not smoke *** with you
but I will read you pride and prejudice
I like my books better than oxycontin
My Clarry and Jace more than your straight ***** and chase  
I like books more than people
reading is my choice drug
while yours starts bringing you down
on your addiction is frowned
mine is making me looked up to
yes I am a loner
my walls build from Stephen kings
my heads not clouded with weirs the ****
no I guess I am not a stoner
but fictional people are better than real ones
I wont **** for a too finger bag
but touch my paper back and ill have your ***
Sean Banks Apr 2013
“Listen here buds”
I’m not going to
**** around
or hold back
or try to even the score
and in return
“Don’t **** with me”
“moooore”*

This is an ode to ol' Stuart
Or Brandon
Or Stubacca
Or Bongshit
Whatever you want to call him
Call him it
Conflict
Resolution
Resided
In Penta rips
I reminisce
Too **** often
That’s what I am here to admit

I guess that is the purpose of this poem
Is to make all the apologies
I left unsaid
And to leave all the unsaid
slights behind

Because in my mind,
I was not a good roommate
And you weren’t either
But our insult based arguments would deflate
Recognizing we were both underachievers
Two ******* calling the kettle black
Denzel Washington Movies
And Back
In Quail
Room 1514
Was a “Kozy Shack”
Was not for the weak
Lungs
The haziest of all hostels
A blaze fest
A Bro-out Brothel
"OB Get the ******* door!"
"And don't forget to lock and towel"

Escape from the real world
Into the mythical Qualcation

The Adherol - know it alls
3 Pills of dex – 45 minutes crushed text
Book and and back when we were hooked
  “This **** is just like doing M”
Thank christ for all your friends in MGMT
As it didn’t stop you from copying them
Mr. Rintoul had bigger fish to fry

And I was frying them
because the kitchen was foreign
So at 4 in
The mornin’
I’d be cookin’ creative
Broke *** creations
Cause stomach pains
Are a serious disease

Please
Don’t take
This poem
The wrong way
Because back in the day
Are the days I miss the most
We played host
To a family of friends
Anyone would want to boast

Thank you for reminding me it was your birthday
Every ******* year
Every elaborate party
You deserved
No Hissy fit was unwarranted
Speaking on behalf of a floor Matt
You know the one you parented
The upmost respect remains
For papa Stewie

And when I got my dewy
I got a few hugs of sympathy
While you laughed in my ******* face
And when you couldn’t find a roommate
I happily took that place
And when I left movie night in the trailer
To go do slam poetry at a talent show
You made me feel so out of place
And when I returned with my 100$ winnings
You were the first person I bought a pilsner case

The fact that you never made the break through
To see the majority of the time
We were laughing at you not with you
Doesn’t seem to be an issue
Because maybe you did know all along
Staying in check
Punishing us
stoner massages
That could break necks

Now these days with a real job that really pays
Stuart Rintoul will still tell you he is LiViN’
Even - If he is stuck in Edmonton
This separation
“Is horseshit”

Let me state it one last time old pal
This poem is not meant to offend
And deep down from Roses to the Corral
I hope you bang all my ex girlfriends

I should have never left you all those times for *******
Or in the words of Tuner “PP!”
I should have stayed and watched Blade 3

To all those
who really knew Stu
It was really me
eating all the peanut butter
by the spoon
But blaming it on you
Was too opportune

Stu,
You are
******* clutch
******* decent
And so ******* “chitty”

You were the best friend
I should have never asked for
And for this
I will never
**** with you
Any
“mooooore”
SunShineIsDead Aug 2014
You once said to me
"I've always wanted a someone who will sit around and smoke *** with me all day"
Yeah, that was us
I was a Trippin Beatles fanatic
And you were my
Miss O-High-O
We sat around talking
About who knows what
Coming to ultimate life changing ideas
That we didn't remember the next day
I frantically showed you the sounds I listened too
And
You showed me what ****** *** really was

So here's to you babe
My one true stoner gal
Daniel Magner Nov 2012
Two ticks click
through my ears
fuego leapt from
steel grasp to burn
destroying as it
flares across the valley
Smoke billowed into
the clutches of
hard, purple plastic
pressing in from all sides
funneled into sacks
of tendrils. They cringe
grey swirls choking
off pipes and
blood lines
Veins bursting with
new chemicals
Spewed out over
the burnt plains
But the valley
is just a small
groove on a
burnt out, tired
brain
© Daniel Magner 2012
I never understood why you,
laugh at everything.

Is it my general presence,
an insult or compliment
to my company?

NO. It's cannabis.
You're a little stoner.
-WRR
SJ Sullivan Jan 2016
Debauchery was in the air for all of us last night.
Neo hip hop stoner jive.

I once watched my friend break down into tears after
hearing a Phil Collins song while shopping for dinner
in a Louisville gas station.

Angela will get up and leave the room if The Reason by Hoobastank
comes on the radio and you still listen to Closing Time when you get ready for bed.
Weird phrases are hovering through the air.

I turned on the bathroom fan to avoid sitting in silence with myself and you ripped up all my potted plants and sold my favorite arm chair on craiglist.
I wake up sobbing.

You were chewing on a red pen, but i thought it was a twizzler. I worked up the courage to ask you for one.

The chainsaw love song of the jumping spider
makes the snare drums in your ears roll.
Its gold in the right light.
Even better in the under light.

I told you i think its weird that everyone buys shoes
and maybe some people feel about their shoes
the way i feel about my shoes,
Which is a good feeling.

I am writing this poem while other people
read poems that the have written also.

I am too anxious to ask people when podcasts become a thing
and what does it mean to be a podcast?

A friend once said it would be cool if your poetry professor
told you to ******* but its also cool when they get you a
glass of water at the poetry reading where you are writing poems.

I think the girl in front of me is writing a poem too.
I wonder if she writes about spiders.
I wonder if she is giving her mom a poem for her birthday.
I wonder if she drafts poems about how you make her feel but
deletes them before they burn into her laptop screen.

I wonder how you feel when you make me feel good and happy.
I hope that you feel like the way i feel when you make me feel good and happy.
I am glad we are friends. I want you to play piano with me on sunday evenings
so we can prelude into the perpetual strain of sunday to saturday.
It may, if we play loud enough, dampen the bodies of the
****** and doomed that we inhibit on weekdays.

I wish I could write poems that inspire your poems.
I wrote this at a poetry reading.
AuntieBelle May 2014
Highland Park is the stoner park, everybody knows that. You go to Highland Park to smoke ****, you don't take your kids to Highland Park. Well, you might if your kids are total potheads but then you'd have to buy a lot more ****.

-Belle B. Blazed
Johnny Noiπ Jul 2018
mass culture     is designed      for       complacency [               ];
the Great Depression of the 30's ended the Roaring 20's;
as radio brought WWII & TV Vietnam into homes
where easy-chairs & TV dinners reigned in cartoon
silence; Bud sneaks off to the garage to smoke bud,
when the innocent stoner gets a draft card,
turning radical, Bud grows his hair long &
giving the ******* to some,  peace
sign to others  [decades go by when hideous was fashionable];
                 9/11 breaking our post-grunge
neo-70's-80's haze [for what, like a week - - -
                then came the hoax of Islamophobia
       spreading paranoia & nervousness in case
the terrorists missed anyone;                 the 90's
were already                 nostalgia by the time of the invasion
of Iraq; mass culture is designed for sedentary complacency
but when society is in upheaval
the media just has to wait
until it's all over to start promoting expensive baubles again - - -
Hadley Sep 2013
Idiot
stupid
stupid idiot
I'm just a ******* waster
such a ******* waster
greasy stoner girl
think you're special
think you're different
shut the **** up
you're not special
you're not different
you're ****
Dark soul Mar 2015
I LOVE YOU LIKE;
like the rivers love floods,
the clouds love the vapors,
my inner tissue loves nicotine,
the surface loves the earthquake,
a famine loves a deserted place,
the fire loves more oxygen,
the waters love the hurricane,
the ache loves the pain,
the euphoria loves the trance,
the darkness loves the night,
the anger loves the fight,    
Sometimes I wander into my own world ,
being self centered
all those distances in between
well I say **** those distances
I want to here ,
I want you near ,
I love you and will always do
handle with care
all those fragile pieces of your heart that you are broken into ;
Well nothing sums up my
cravings , satiating me
knowing your soul more .
Nidhi♥
SøułSurvivør Jun 2017
This spoken word.
I want to talk.
Folks'll put you
In a box.
It has six sides.
There's lots in stock.
Works just like a
Broken clock.
It fits in life
Two times a day.
Once the cradle.
Once the grave.
Then they'll fix
A label, TOO.
Once it's on it

STICKS LIKE GLUE.

There's a man
Down on the street.
Not someone you'd
Want to meet.
Drinks his meals
So he won't eat.
Shuffles 'round
Sits on the curb.
He's a "mumbler".
He's "disturbed".
Talks to self
Because he's shunned.
Got a label...

He's a ***.

There's a woman
Has no phone.
Has twenty cats
'Coz she's alone.
She talks to them
When in the mood.
She's so poor
She eats their food.
Yup. She has an
Attitude.
Has no husband
Who'd get paid.
On HER there are
Labels laid...

She's a SPINSTER.
An OLD MAID
.

There's a teen
Who is arrested.
He's a menace.
It's attested.
Nope. He's not
Very nice.
He is into drugs & vice.
Is this "DELINQUENT"
Past retrieval?
Is he past knowing
'Coz he's evil?

Tie die. Peace sign.
Kinda trippy.
He's a "LONGHAIR"
He's a "HIPPIE"
.

Is she lovely?
Or "STUCK UP"
He's a "DOG"
The laughter's ****.

[chorus]
They aren't "NORMAL".
They're "unstable".
Slap 'em with a
POST-IT LABEL.


There's a girl
Who eats her pain.
Downs her food
Unrestrained.
She's bulimic
So she's "CRAZY"
She may be "FAT"
So she is "LAZY"
Another on the
"crazy" list...
His anger's inward,
He's depressed.
He may drink
So he's a "******".
Here's another label...

"LOSER"

Then there's the boy
Who lashes out.
Beats kids up.
He's a lout.
He is wild and
He is wooly.
He is labeled as a
"BULLY".
There's another
Kid who's shy.
So he gets the
Blackened eye.
He is "sraight"
He don't get high.
Nose in book,
He goes unheard.
What's his label?

He's a "NERD".

[chorus]


There's a one
We ALL know's BAD.
She was *****
By her own dad.
At age thirteen
She's "knocked up".
We ALL know her...

She's a "****"
.

There's a man
Who wears tattoos.
Labels he will never lose.
"WHITE TRASH" 'cuz
He owns a bike.
She likes women.
She's a "****".
She smokes fatties
So she's a "stoner"
He's just "weird"
'Coz he's a loner.
He loves men,
So he's a "***"
She loves him
So she's a "hag"
How'd YOU like
That odious tag?
Let's all do
The Label Rag!
Don't it make the
Tongues just wag?
It's enough to
MAKE YA GAG.

[chorus]


Tribal nation?
I'll be brief.
He's an "Indian"
Call him "Chief"
Does it make
White egos bigger
To call a black man
"BOY" or ******"?
Is that wisdom
Do ya figger?
Whatcha think
THAT'S gonna trigger?
Will the term "*****"
Do the trick?
How 'bout "******"?
How 'bout "****"?
How 'bout "****"?
That ***** Jew.
Well.
Let's take a look at YOU.

Look in the mirror.
The view is free.
Look in there!
What do you see?
Do you see yourself...

Or ME?

Is there smoke?
Are you deceived?
What's th label
You've received?


Look out dere!
HERE COME DA JUDGE!

10 feet tall & has a
GRUDGE!
And since we're getting
Really formal
Got another label.
NORMAL.
You judge someone
With capital blocks
Cuz you can't read
A CEREAL BOX?
Is prejudice the
Meal you eat?
Label on that
And it ain't WHEAT.

[chorus]


Yes. I'm white.
And I am sixty.
I ain't young. I ain't ****.
But I'm a POET
I can TALK.
I have been
Around th block.
You don't like it
You can WALK.
YOU WON'T PUT
ME IN A BOX.
I wasn't a "******".
I wasn't a "tweeker".
Was a "CRACKHEAD".
A ******* seeker.
Finally got it in my head.
There's another label.

That is DEAD.

Yeah. I'm a Christian.
"Jesus Freak"
I'm not ashamed
Because I seek!
Believe'n sure don't
Make me WEAK.

I'M DONE WITH
THE DISSIN' AND
THE TRASHIN'!
Got a concept called

COMPASSION!

Yeah. I know it's
Not in fashion...
But this no joke.
It's not a GAME.
I got a label...

It's my NAME.

I got another
Worth the seeing.
Another "label"...

HUMAN BEING.

Yeah. I'll preach.
I'm gonna shout.

My name is

CATHERINE.

Over. OUT.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/13/2017
Been up all night
Writing this.

Got to get some
Shut-eye...

See you all later.

♡♡ LUV YA! ♡♡
Julio Lopez Oct 2018
I don't got a heart
I got a punching bag
Come and hit it if you with it
It won't make me sad-
der
As a matter of fact it won't even make mad
Girl I got a punching bag
Rolling down Ocean soon we'll be blunt smoking
Toking, you know that talk that I'm talking
She a stoner like me, yeah she rolling easy
Riding with me for the time being
She has got my heart beating
She has got my bag swinging
lesly The poet Dec 2013
I was brought into this world for a purpose
To conquer my ambitions and my dreams
It all started oh so simple , but when I entered high school all of that did not matter

The were three types of groups in this hell hole
Nerds ,Stoners , and popular teens
Obviously I had to choose and I only hoped being a stoner could boost up my reputation
Instead of receiving education ,I was busy inhaling the holy plantation

Look where I ended up , my report card is an embarrassing piece of paper that ever came up my eyes
The Dedpoet Jan 2016
My Cousin Frank once
Came to spend a weekend
With the family at a state park,
He came with bongs
And a habitual prestige of
*** smoking.

He would light a ****
In hiding but would
Not blot out the smell
As a show for his pride
As a smoker.

      I was a here and there
Kinda smoker, couldn't roll
To save my life or the last
Of the bag, but amidst the late
Night drinking in the gallery
Of faces round the fire,
Came my time to take a few hits.

( I began a soliloquy of morbidly humorous
Topics which no one thought was funny)
As midnight hour came, Cousin Frank
Came to the unpopular guy who
Couldn't handle his smoke.
He lit another and began
A soliloquy of his own,
Rather I think I just spaced out.

     He went to bed and I stayed
Wondering about apples and grapes,
In the starlit terrace of the infinite
Possibility of fruits,
Thankful Frank had brought
Such philosophical ****.
Henryk Krzyrz Oct 2012
Sam
Self-cut ginger locks that ooze pretension
pontificating so bluntly about "Cinema"
He buys Sociology textbooks at GoodWill,
TL;DR,
but they look good on a dusty shelf
don't they?

Mocking potential reactions to his
apparent ignorance.

A stoner who has never been high,
An existentialist who has never known what it is to die
A stargazer who has never seen the sky,
Highly expectant yet always refuses to try.

Ridicules what he doesn't understand
Taste so bland,
could swear he was conceived by the
FDA in a public school kitchen.
Kelly O'Connor Oct 2013
Love your family.
Don't scream when you get home from school. Don't swear when you're leaving for school. Never let the neighbors know you're unhappy.  Don't make your mom unhappy. Look her in the eyes, she's a person too.  She doesn't remember what it's like to be a teenager because she's too focused on making you snacks, calling the doctor, and buying you face wash.

Love people.
Trust them. Show them how lovely they are. Smile at them even though you have a pimple on your nose, they likely have one on their chin.  The handsome stoner with green skinny jeans and an extended knowledge of punk rock seems infinitely kind because he is infinitely kind. He's not looking to ***** you over and he doesn't think you're lame.  He actually thinks he's lame and he wants to get to know you. Ask how his day was, although it's old-fashioned, so are you, who cares, it will make him happy.  Ask how everyone's day was, even though you'd rather shove your unpleasant face and your trembling voice and all of your clumsy words into an old box and hand it back to God, then thank him for at least trying.

Love the world.**
Never stop looking up at trees.  Don't do it so boys nearby will think you're an enigma.  Do it because every leaf and every branch wants you to notice them. Do it to fill your head with words that make you buy more pretty notebooks.
Miss Misery Feb 2013
I was freaking out all day
feeling like **** that I was a stoner.
Then later that night I smoked
and took it all back.
Ye.
Vera City May 2020
How they ridicule Jim,
The neighbourhood loner:
"wears a tinfoil hat" and
"turns his wifi off at night"

They all brand him a kook:
"well, you know he's a stoner,
funny coincidence though,
his forecasts have proved right!"
Molly Apr 2015
I got ******* caught in my nose piercing
and the *** was overwhelmingly
disappointing.
He tried to spoon me
but I just don't have time for that,
you know? I just don't want that.

He was a **** kiss,
probably had no notion of a female ******,
he's a country boy stoner
doing **** all ever.

They used my student card
to chop up the coke
while I puked behind the car.
That's home though. That's life here.

And you, you ******,
when I woke up I missed you.
I really ******* miss you.

— The End —