"tokes" poems
My mom says "frick"
or "fiddlesticks"
even when kids aren't around.
She's holding in
some of that pure, unfiltered rage
each time a plate is dropped
or toe is stubbed.
If only she'd just shout "OH ****
she wouldn't lash out
at grandma or sob uncontrollably later.
Someone once said to me, **** you!"
and I was happy.
It means they won't ****** me in my sleep
because they expressed verbal and not physical rage.
I was happier when someone told me "go **** yourself"
because I went home and did just that.
Speaking of pleasure,
the act of *******
burns between 85-250 calories,
improves sleep & your immune system.
Google it.
I've been ******
a realization &/or learning experience
having gone broke without a way to pay rent
resulting in the lesson of moving back in with the parents.
We can get ****** up.
A couple too many tokes &/or shots of gin &/or punches to the face.
We learn the perils of excess.
In third grade, I was ****** up by a group of 6-7 kids.
I learned I never want to experience THAT
uncomfortable feeling again.
Why is **** such a bad word again?
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
Smoke tokes out of the monkey's head, embers embellish empathic light enlightening gypsy nymphs from miles around, a glowing lighthouse haven heaven in nirvana massages lavender bubbles upon pores restoring strength to warriors of the rainbow tribe."
Wind rustles with us...
Stay grounded, you're found before you're even lost. Some get tossed and turned by the sea, but a smooth one never created a skilled pirate with third-eye versatile switch-blade heartbeat ink scribed on blood-vessel maps, following the soul tattoos and taboo time scars along with the azurite lightning stars shooting in our brain.
Time stops sometimes...
*Seasons change DNA re-arranges as we grow goin' with our own flow down the subconscious ocean, sometimes watchin' sunsets into a haze of sweet *** sweat and green cigarette peacetime sufi twirling our conscious to the north star crown chakra.*
Love is. Always.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Night is for the hours
Cowards,
Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers
It's been said napkins are the greatest currency
For it holds the food spittle of man
Like how ambulances sit waiting
To clean up after misfortunes
And make fortunes for the fortun-
Who Ate paragraphs of spider webs
And patted weaves like black men seating at the back of the limited luxurious Q46 bus nodding heads to the noise of Toyota cameras they couldn't afford in the land where they spend $300 million to part the seas for summer entertainment
While they only spent $40 on California cuteness and walked on water with 13 Jesus' and ate at the bottom of the sea with only three tokes from the plastic bag
Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers
For we graduated from 30 hot nights of mathematics
Only to find that the future will always be white and in the *******
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
torn jeans
dimples
station wagons
shifting eyebrows
eager hands
wry smiles
chapped lips
cheap beer
deep-set eyes
pirated music
hates his birthday
stoplight-kisses
star-gazing in cornfields
****** knuckles
broken minds
lanky limbs
poetry books
scruffy faces
jet-black coffee
calloused hands that still feel soft
adventurer's heart
jumping fences
midnight tokes
always gives you hickeys
always opens your door
worn sneakers
chewed pen caps
late for work
old windbreakers
dirt under his fingernails
omniscient smirks
expensive cologne
good intentions -
but is bad with goodbyes
hates himself for making you cry
broken cigarettes
aviator shades at night
a perpetually furrowed brow
and a laugh that sounds like autumn leaves as they crunch beneath your feet
m.f.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
Five minute street artists
and insomnia mongers.
****** drunk blondes
and finger snapping phat booties.
Street geniuses
bred by Machiavellian philosophies
cypher dreams over tokes
of marijuana smoke.
Color worshipping narcotic traffickers,
and bread winners
parole corners
sporting fitted caps and twisting fingers.
Senile war veterans
beg for change in cardboard boxes
from the American dreams
they afforded.
Hard workers with every ethnicity
molded into each pore of their face,
rub shoulders with tourists at traffic stops
barely escaping tires crushing their feet.
Sartorial geniuses with no pants
switch hips in knock-off stellos heels,
selling the origin of the world on avenues
next to Arab Halal food.
Cooperate ties and blue collars chafe ***** on subways.
nodding in and out of Daily News articles
while oxygen blessed by asparagus ****
pump through their noses.
Summa *** laude number runners dictate economies
From sky-crapper offices,
And powered rain swallows their concrete each winter,
With no apologies.
Jun 2, 2011
Jun 2, 2011 at 11:01 PM UTC
in the quiet
between the metal madness
of flesh being ripped from young bones
the watching and waiting
the stinging eyes
the flaring nostrils filled
with the sounds
of ****** painted flesh
there is a cool liquid silence
that comes with
the token tokes we take
as we pass the golden bowl
those times when we forget
we could flick a switch
and rock and roll
rock and roll
with psycho-delic cassettes, or
full metal jackets, though
neither allows us to see
there are times of senseless silence
and lost lizards lounging
on dew dappled leaves
in mornings after
the crushing steel
the fatal fingered agony
we sewed and reaped,
there
is
this
quiet,
this still green scent
the lizard and the fruit
the green promise of tomorrow
that we may erase
with our screaming toys
and deadly ploys
but only after we awake
from this smoky drifting dream
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
There are women
Short skirts
Tight shirts
Leaning on counters
Popping gum
Smiling at every man that passes
Handing lollipops out to girls with braids
Ribbons
And ambitions.
Women who get undressed
Flip hair, don't care
Sliding into passenger seats
Standing on tip-toes to reach
Wear blue on a golden afternoon
Read books "far too complicated"
Eat messy food with unmanicured hands
Who don't belong to you.
There are women
Can't even begin to squeeze
into that tiny size 2 dress
Don't have the time to stress over
How many times a week
A month
A year they shower.
Women that don't even think about the color pink.
There are women
With babies
And menstrual cycles
With short hair
And Harley motorcycles
There are tough women
And strong women
With tattoos
Degrees
Febreze
Who love other women.
There are women that save lives
Who thrive on the idea of being free
"I don't want children"
"Don't need no man"
Who don't like to sing
Don't like to dance
There are women who are loud
Who take tokes
and laugh at jokes
Women with hymens still unbroken
Or reminded of it's absence every single day.
Women who have hair in more places than one.
And there are women who are sad
Who are broken
And angry.
But those same women can be glad
Can be put back together again.
There are women
Who don't know stereotypes
Or how to break them.
And there are women
Who have hips
And know how to shake them.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
sheesh
our session is paltry
taking hits betwixt talk
we've taken hits, how many have walked
or just simply dropped
from doping to coke
smoking and joking
over the line with too many tokes
our time's coming too
though we know not when
we'll go too
in the end
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 1:03 PM UTC
Live life to live
shape the world and cultivate
away fears of shadows and hate.
Grower's thumbs often build
greener tomorrows, tokes to give
to brothers and sisters of today
always searching for more questions.
What clarity can bring to one
not you, but for someone
who holds the rotten cape
held together by rough black tape
to the bewildered open fields
of opiates and grapes
waiting just enough time
to bend around the vine
that holds together what they are feeling.
Let the world keep spinning
wobble from time to time
stumble off our feet
no chance to meet or greet
the war is on our street
bringing lust greed and pride
for all of us to abide
but all things can be forgiven.
Feel the sunny heat
of the smiles of those you just beat
for all the people are here
lovers, plumbers, drummers,
and this goes on, we run again
on and on we run again
on and on again
we go on.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
(HOOK:)
A true friend like you hard to find
Beautiful
Smart
And kind
Greatest person I've ever known
The one who always picks up the phone
(VERSE ONE:)
When I am angry
I'm sad
When I've done something bad
Complain to you about why I'm mad
You somehow make me glad
A bit of laughter
Few jokes
Beers and a lot of tokes
Playful tickle and a dozen pokes
Ounces upon ounces of **** to smoke
It is hard to feel low when you're real high
Lay down
Closed red eyes
Lose the frustration in your mind
Leave it behind
Sometimes wish I was like
You
I wouldn't have to hide
From relatives
My life
You and my family are not alike
It is true you and I
Will be best friends all our lives
(HOOK)
(VERSE TWO:)
Tell how many late-night telephone calls
How many times you swept in to break down all my walls
Is happy ending possible after all?
For a moment free of fear so I take a breath and fall
Either dreaming or I finally worked up the *****
Sad thing about pavement is it's where I crawl
Happy people call me crazy
They don't understand
Pray for my soul because it's ******
When they themselves stray from God's plan
No one is perfect yet stones are still thrown from their hands
Promise when I say you're beautiful that you believe
No matter fiction others try to weave
The hardest part of learning truth is to first receive
You can walk away
It will never truly leave
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 9:54 PM UTC
There is a love no phrase defines
Eight letters mean nothing
but what you take from them.
And some take none.
So I'll take a few more letters
cos' eight seems not enough,
to tell of a love that rests
high above the lust
of a high school romance.
This is a love where you dance
through the night
with your shirts off
to music that doesn't even play.
You sneak abouts here and there
and hit bowls against the grass
and glance on lakes at night
the ultimate paradox shining
in mankind. Belligerent fights
with brooms ensue to be ended
by boxes of cardboard pizza
or red pepper pita and hummus.
Your parents say, "those guys again..."
And you say, "Hey! you're talkin' bout' my friends here."
So you go.
You take rides endless it seems.
Take trips to places before unseen.
Talks of blabber and sensibility.
Snuggle seshes end in wrestling matches.
If you wake up and your jaw hurts,
you and Maxy probably got drunk again.
If your clothes smell a bit,
chance that Andy dropped by.
If your mind's been blown
Mack and Will laid with you
by the pond for hours.
If you feel a love stronger
in your soul, Dbake's nearby.
If you laugh your *** off for days,
Dusty probably told a joke
or pulled his pants down.
If you can't wrap you mind
around some fact or story,
Bankman must have sprouted
out some MIT engineering bull
you wish you could understand.
But who gives a hey when
you're out chilling with the bros,
brews or not, smokes or tokes or nokes,
there is always a brotha out to chill.
And to you, I say
NAMASTE
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 11:52 PM UTC
Dinking too much whiskey,
Behaving sort of risky,
Telling lying stories,
Tall tales of former glories,
Laughing between the tokes,
At outrageously bad jokes;
We thought we were outlaws,
But were tamer than in-laws.
Out for a wild ride,
Living on the wild side
And howling at the moon.
The sun will be rising soon.
Honking horns at passing cars
Toking doobies under the stars,
Letting no cuties pass us by
Without whistling, my oh my.
We were certain we were cool
Too ****** to know we were fools.
Escapees from the workaday,
We ten-mile perimeter ruanways.
Out for a wild ride,
Living on the wild side
And howling at the moon.
The sun will be rising soon.
Out at night, no three-piece suits,
Sandals instead of fruit boots
Pegged jeans and rolled up sleeves
No fancy stuff with fancy weaves.
Prepared for whatever comes
Serenaded by engine hum
We told each other that we were hot.
Even though we knew we were not.
Out for a wild ride,
Living on the wild side
And howling at the moon.
The sun will be rising soon.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
Poem 1
A LESSON THAT I TAUGHT
I Teach!!
I taught...
Here's a lesson that I taught...
I had this lesson. It were ace in my mind!
The planning was tight, concise, well timed
Going into the room - my stage
Put on the teacher face, the act
(My phone is buzzing but I don't react)
Lights, camera, action! You're on!
"Hi guys! Come in, unpack your things!"
But I'm just thinking about why it rings
"Hi guys! Come in, take off your coats!"
For some reason now I'm thinking about goats
(Why ******* goats?
Why now?!)
I thought
(I need to teach a lesson on...
Oh crap! The whiteboards not working!) ****
Right, try again...
"Excuse me Chelsea, that skirts too tight,
And too short and you aren't wearing tights.
Go down to student point and get yourself a note"
And now I'll get back to the lesson that I taught
"I FUCKIN' 'ATE SIR! HE'S ALWAYS TIGHT!!"
Class - "Totes! Hahahahaha!!!"
I think ... Look you little tots, all you're thinking about is **** ... and your tots and your shots and your tokes in her tote!
You think you're ******* clever but you're not!!
I say... "This is an amazing lesson that I've got!
Does anyone remember the last lesson that I taught?"
"No sir, we do not"
"You're boring sir"
"Are you gay sir?"
On a parallel universe, where I don't care about my career and my home and my children...
I think in my head for a bit, then I say...
"Look you little spaz, you think I'm tight?!? I've been sleeping in a mates spare room at night
because me and the mother of my kids had a fight
and everything in my life is turning *****
Because all I do is stay up all night to plan a ******* lesson for a bunch of little scrotes! Who can't even take off their coats, And sit and ******* listen to the lesson that I taught! I'm marking so much that my body's not taut and my mind spins round and round in thought (a word which you spell ******* tawt!)
Progress and differentiation!
The future of your education!
And I just hope that in some way, I might actually TEACH you something today!
But all you think about is **** and tats and texts and sexts and COD and Christiano Ronaldo and Justin 'fucking' Beiber AND YOU CALL ME GAY?!?
You spell thought ... T.A.W.T!! You're 18 for gods sake!!
How you gonna make a living eh?!
Totesport?!
A couple of them titter
And the rest go silent...
And I think I've won!
'Til one of them says "sir... I'm gonna get you done!"
"And you're gay"
"And you're a **** teacher"
The end
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 5:04 AM UTC
I sense the rain diggin' into my brain harder than a migraine
So I take tokes of the Mary Jane simple and plain
huh
Things ain't the same ever since you came
Into my life from the kids to my universal wife
Married to the cosmos so I can expose
Myself to energy that was left
Of my consciousness
Sick of the the nonsense
I'm feelin' dry wipe the tears from God's eye
Never knew why?
How I'm feelin' the madness filled with sadness
Which I could reverse the pains fillin' soon to burst
Out of emotion life's a constant commotion
as my thoughts sink deeper than an ocean
Many can't stand the rain....
It's early in the morning I'm bawling crawling
In my sleep as my chakras begin to creep
I'm in too deep peep
the madness running around
Percolating soon to drown what's that sound
I'm hearing voices of past choices block out the
noises
visions of a gloomy glare though no one's there
Just prefigured destiny
of a hidden enemy
A closed vessel soon to open into a portal
A worm hole corticals swole so know the protocol
I'm the first and the last
baby girls you more than just a piece of *** as I clash
Like opposite magnets attached
To your love
Beautiful dove spreading wings
Above
Take flight away into the golden disc
Givin' us a sun kiss
Many can't stand the rain...
Now that the rain done poured mother nature stored
Mankinds sins into the ground but then again
Let the madness re-ascend cuz the roots been
Tampered with so many mental caskets
Scared to wake up cuz they love being dead
Chasin' bread scared of every thing they red
On the frontlines of newspapers stop catching the vapors
Undercover raiders energy creator I'm dark as Vader
From alpha to omega the worlds a stage of
Actors and actresses leave no witnesses
Once the sun comes out begins a new drout
Should have caught the raindrops before it stopped
Many can't the rain...
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
They say love makes us do some crazy things
I just wish our lives intertwined
That'd be amazing
I'm like a dog with no bone or a cat without nip
A joke with no punch line or a wet floor that can't slip
I can't help it I'm crazy about you
You saved my life so you know I'd never doubt you
But I physically pain when you're away
I ache And hurt, and masquerade like I'm okay
And let's not even talk about hormonal situations
I said you're my superwoman, but even I need saving
I get it, you have responsibilities and stuff to maintain
But me without you is simply insane
I can't stand to think of someone else holding your hand it eats me up inside and today I woke up with tears in my eyes...
disguised as laughter and jokes
I'm like a nicotine head trying to cover up that he smokes
Or Tommy Chong taking Vicadin when we all know he tokes
Or a crack addict with no pipe
a straw with no berry
You're the Apple of my eyes but they close day by day... And it's scary
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
If he says one day, he takes seven.
Does he know it shortens his life.
A two month job takes a year off him.
His runs to the lumber mill, and beer,
To the hardware store, and tokes;
Then to the beer store,
And smokes.
Sometimes, not often, but occasionally,
Whiskey and wine,
With beer.
And the morphine for his back... whew!
Seven to one ratio sounds true,
but poor odds.
In his favour, he's below average
in height,
like a small dog,
it helps longevity.
In most small dogs,
In what we call the Free World,
With government assisted suicide.
There's a call coming in.
George G is building a shed
Out back.
Gotta go.
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 10:51 PM UTC
chalk it up to fantasy
or better yet, reality
swimming in dreams
picking at the seams
something called faith
nothing you can make
but bittersweet smoke
dipping in the tokes
covered in hazy film
sight becoming dim
ears opening to truth
last step from youth
thrown into the water
God's lonely daughter
fighting a breath
with no fight left
listen to the whispers
the cracking bone spurs
as animalistic nature
becomes desire's creature
a twisted marionette
upon the king's deck
but I hold the ace
only thing to trace
back to fantasy
or better yet, reality
Jun 6, 2011
Jun 6, 2011 at 6:04 PM UTC
Any word never so softly spoken
never words ever so stately joking . . .
hopeless without dope
the whole world tokes--
just don't choke
and swallow smoke so toxic.
I've had it with this rock ****
wanting women to go *******
knock THIS with fists clenched to bliss
never was there ever so sinister a kiss.
don't miss this chance to be missed for misters miss's listless jist of this.
sound is forever
ever heard of white noise
its the sound of people fighting across the world forever ever for letters between a girl and a boy.
are you sure?
do you really want this?
can you bomb it, not drop it
to **** meaningless fetuses?
why are you reading this?
you can't beat this.
Eat this slowly trying to depleat this.
guess what?
everhing you've been reading is meaningless.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
Where does the world go when it’s swallowed into abyss,
sodomized selectively with its own abandoned sins,
self induced lies and illogics,
it can’t drag it’s eyes across the gritted mirror,
stained scattered across its frame,
It’s drag marks burrowed into its arms,
veins a scab of ache and infected grit,
the world festers,
it’s gaunt and slender,
a skinny ****
eyes carved deep within the bowels of its skull,
coke left overs flecked at its bleeding nostrils.
Everything is a consentuated trip,
the world’s gone sour,
look at her,
used and hollow,
thighs voluptuous,
yet bruised so tender beneath the surface,
if you could strip her skin rye and clean
to see the muscle tendons beneath
then you’d find hand prints scattered across her,
down through her curves,
violating and probing deep inside her,
no place the wicked haven’t been on and inside her.
Fingers of spider and the unnerving maggots that crawl beneath,
she scatters the buck shot shavings
abound the blood screened room of bodies and fiendish men long lost and bullet beaten,
the shot gun barrel tokes a puff of gunpowder exhaust as she swings it levered spewing
it’s shrapnel with laughter,
and her grin,
the world’s broken smile,
disease ridden and staunched,
it burns ember as the bodies stain the hotel carpet,
stain over stain,
sin feasting on sin.
World, where does it end?
World, where?
World, will it ever end?
World, death doesn’t take a day off.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
I can feel me
******* breaking under gray skies
As I dream of red eyes
And green grass
CPT Slime and Rasta's daft laughs
And the taste of tobacco on your tongue
While I wash up in SlimeyG's kitchen
Good God, if I wasn't there, that infamous week would've been filthy!
We can feel
The bass ******* it through the sideboard
SlmieyG's lounge walls are shaking hard
And we cackle bare
When Big Gay tumbles grinning downstairs
So I stick the kettle on
Good God, we caned a litre of milk in one round of teas!
I can hear
Those slimey green dawgs singing loud
When we bring Tom's cake out
And his face is a chuffin' picture
At the realisation of the six-layers' topper
So throw him a Clipper
Good God - eighteen, eighteen, EIGHTEEN tokes to clear it!
So, will you?
Can we all get together? We'll feel alright
For just one more warm hazy night
And when we sing these songs
Of freedom, we'll laugh in peace together. So long
To misery, my brothers
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 2:36 PM UTC
happy birthday to me, a dream in a dream, how fast the years fly by it seems
i look outside at the flashing lights, and thank the universe for another night
to live and breathe in this beautiful scene; an adventure, this life has been
full of wonder and hope, the joys and the tokes—i laugh, but it is not a joke
23 years and still im astounded, of the light and the love from which my world is founded
a kiss and a hug from the boys that i love, in a thousand years i could never get enough!
so much time i feel i've wasted, but in its absence i've been wonderful places
oh, the beautiful people i've met along the way, honestly make my world brighter with every new day
and in that respect i say to all of you: without you all i'd have already come unglued, long ago, i promise you that
you guys are the fabric that's held me in place... #fact
so three cheers to you and a “here, here” for me, for making it this far by learning simply to be
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 12:27 AM UTC
Oh mary j
You make things okay
I love you beyond words.
I love to light you up
Watching you burn
Baby you make my world turn
Hits from the ****
Tokes from the bowl
Miss Mary jane
You make me feel whole
You will be my best friend
Until I die
Without you I could not survive
Everyday, I give thanks to god
Me and mary
Are like two peas in a pod
Well my lungs and my bones are craving
Your smoke
Ill see yall later I'm gonna go ****
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:16 AM UTC
Makin' creatin' a lightspeed igniting conversation, one star nation takes patience to see the people slowly wakin' n' bakin' up like an S.O.S is morse code from herb tokes in the late midnight.
Indigo third eye aliens sailin' in wailin' blues like the sinnerman nina simone and tracy chapman entrapped and entwined like a serpentine mind warp in time like kaleidoscope bhavacakra.
We be inside a cocoon of warmth, while sunsets high atop begets a period of gratitude n' news of ancient wizards of the earth burning sacred stories in sky paintings of clouds in the Canadian north spring equinox.
Fox spirits and raccoon split spliffs from peace pipes at night. Families are reuniting. Trojan horse tricks lift spirits hearin' our kicks and screams howlin' and wowlin' at the moonlight while kali dragons claw away time 'till its an infinite mush of mashed sweet potato pie,
but in order to make one from scratch we must first create the universe.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
One the bus, that's where I'm going to be
Leaving behind the trouble that this world has made for me
Finding friends or did they find me?
Traveling along this world that's going to set me free,
you can join if you wanna come
On the bus
On the bus
That's where I'll be
On the bus, That's where I'm going to be,
making friends in life journey is the place for me,
come along if you wanna ride, or we can just sit around and smoke some **** (YIPPIEE)
Taking so tokes then I'll have to go (to my next home)
to find that freedom that's calling me
On the bus
On the bus
is where I'll be
On the bus, Till I find my home
riding the wind to where ever it may blow
finding things, in life that I have never known,
then it dawns on me that this is home
finding friends in my traveling home
On the bus
On the bus
I made it home
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
Saint Valentine's cards of cherubs wrapped
In red ribbons
Wresting In pockets Of a trench-coat lying removed.
Pulsating street lamps revealing glittering
Flecks of snowflakes lining tired streets
With skyscrapers.
We covet empty bottles thrown with the intention to shatter;
Watering up the lawns.
I'm dreaming of palm trees rough,
Sun-kissed, and swollen
Like bumblebees had stung them.
Shifting iris' from corner to corner,
Not missing any pleasurable encounter;
Sinking in ***** and choking In smoke.
Lines cut with maxed out credit cards and
Tokes from glass pipes shaped like octopi;
There's single roses and small
Teddy bears
Red hearts hanging from strings from the ceiling.
The wallflower with no significant other In particular,
Seems peculiar in
Contrast to a sparkling demeanor;
Apprehensive to be present, and trying to disguise It.
Everyone is stumbling, dropping their cigarettes;
Howling at the Moon and
Laughing wildly!
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC