"tokers" poems
The marchers make their way today
through town to Cardiff Bay
with whistles, shouts and banners up
for sweet old Mary Jane
they're marching for her freedom
all ages, colours, creeds
have come in joyful spirits
to help us free the ****
The rich, the poor, the movers and shakers
the blowback kings and part-time partakers
the rollers, the tokers, the bongers and such
the teenage goth stoners who've had way too much
skin up as they march while making their point
and meet up with new friends while sharing a joint.
Then down at the bay side
when the bands start to play
they'll **** in the sunshine
till the end of the day.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
She's the type of girl you get ****** to
Late night conversations
Broken down wrapped tight
The type of girl you laugh & trip with,
Without intention of escape,
A means of quick get away.
The type of girl that's good for your mental.
Filled with hopes & dreams
Down for whatever, at anytime.
Not the average high you'll find.
Shes not a shot type of girl.
Out in the height of the night,
The one you turn to
to run away from your problems.
A bitter taste chased one after another.
She was the girl not everyone is familiar with
But has heard of.
Her type of high one of intellect
not easily found on the block.
Friend of a friend hipped on game
She was the type of girl that put you on the real.
The type you tilt your head to the left and puff.
The type of high you only dream about.
Real tokers know her brand of intrigue
The kind of high you keep to yourself
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 7:34 AM UTC
A child was born.
And another...
And another...
And 7.5 billion more...
Some of them grew up
Some of them are going to school
Some are working
Some are bums or thugs on the side of the street
Beggars, roddlers, teens, schoolchildren, office workers, tokers, addicts, gamblers, prostitutes...
All these people...
Who in the world wants to know what's wrong with me?
No one.
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
Atheist, Atheist, Atheist now what does that mean?
you see that's someone who doesn't believe in god
you can say I'm caught up in the middle
See, is there a god, or is there not
I've never see this so call god
You say he's here, so where is he
he doesn't show his face to me?
you can say this is a poem
but I say this is a story
so, let's cut to the chase, shall we?
See I believe there is someone but then again, I don't
There is people all around us slitting their throat's
I have died 3 times let's not mention the rest
All those years sitting in those hospital beds
Treatment after treatment everyday
See god wouldn't treat me that way
I've seen to many people died from shootings
Why would he want that, now will he?
Sometimes I think if he's playing tricks on us
Like one day they will all wake up
Bottle after bottle drowning in my sorrows
Thinking to myself is there going to be a tomorrow?
You say this so-called god broke out of a tomb
With rocks and rocks piled up high trapped in like a womb
See that's hard to believe when your someone like me
you think and think and think how the world became one, this stuff here couldn't just evolve like the sun
People say this tattoo on my arm is the devil
What if it was, is that against the bible?
Does it really matter
If it was against the Bible?
Now my work here is done
Im gonna go get more work done
If I go to hell thats okay
Because I'll be there with all the gays
Let's not forget the *** smokers
Just because they are tokers
I'm done here
So let me grab a beer
Oh wait and kick you in the rear
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 11:05 PM UTC