Long Stoner Poems
Long Stoner Poems. Below are the most popular long Stoner by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stoner poems by poem length and keyword.
There's a room in a warm town that holds a poet
He quivering and shaking and no one knows it
Critically alone when he needs a friend most
Shadows from his past are haunting him like ghosts
I shot up enough just kill the pain
A harmless little dose just to calm my brain
Til I was caught making love to my sins again
A tiny stoner wreck spewing lies again
And I could still hear the cream calling out in sultry tones
Bleed digital until you stop the urge to moan
Keep slaying demons til you calm down again
Before you need a noose on every streetlight calling your name
There's a room in warm town that's filled with sorrow
Who's to say that the poet will survive til tomorrow?
Driven to despair by the weight of his sins
A grieving poet gives birth to words again
A stone on my chest gives me reason to breathe
As if I've been given life just to try to break free
From the crimson walls with pale white bars
Just to be driven into space from the grilles of the cars
Like a crazy diamond, the sun's shining on me
Out here in space with nothing to protect me
I watch as my last remaining breaths turn to ice
Half-mineral, half-animal, a creation of my own device
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- “Stoned"
I sat there thinking was it true
Aunt was still on the planet too
Had I dreamed that she’d passed away
Whilst she’s still here in light of day.
As I stood up to stagger home
There was a ring come on my phone
It was my aunt in floods of tears
“You’re right my boy, been gone for years”.
A man I know, he is of himself like of the lord
Words are sharp and apt on his tongue
With it formed a blunt dull machete like sword
Covering the deep intention behind and within unsung
The words of false shining like truth
Is a time bomb to the rightful owner
The listener get affected to be delivered off tooth
And suffers the agony of retaliation from the sufferer turned stoner
Deliver my ears from the voice of the sweet sayer
Clipping my mind to a false belief
Whose says are magnetized on prediction cum soothsayer
A hour glass of relief to ageless wood of grief
The knowledge of words oft demanding
Well beyond our Earthly understanding
Mind flash like a blink of an eye
To and fro the norms until the day that we die
Time to grieve those that leave, inadequate
Plead for us, please as our own sole advocate
Unplanned plans demand that we have to know
Right, wrong, lie and truth people do for sustenance to grow
Salvation will not stop crying to its allegiance
Life will not wait long for death’s remembrance
Holding unto name in history which shall fades
Drives many in no time sooner than later to the hades
Memories like a breeze gently blow by
When or how, now or then, we don’t
know why
So, forgive us oh dear lover, oh dearly departed
The once that stood their ground in time so short since started
As we continue to fight this battle
Save us from the deadly luring prattle
We shall soon see the rest of your story
Pray grace reunite us in white lighted glory
Hypocrisy walks in and takes up all the space
The eyes of most brethrens fall on her, their eyes burst
My eye, don't know why, once fell on her face
Can't deter, a blur, unquenchable luring thirst
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- Stoned"
Then a pigeon in sunglasses strutted by slow,
said, “Dude, your aura’s starting to glow.”
He handed me fries from a paper sack,
then whispered, “Your aunt wants her flip-flops back.”
A mailbox nearby began humming a tune,
something about taxes and the shape of the moon.
It winked at me twice with its metal lock,
and muttered, “Kid, you’re higher than a mismatched sock.”
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece.
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
“ I know you think that I am dead. “
“ I am alive” - my auntie moaned
Or Could it be that you are just - “Stoned “
.
I was bewildered in illusion
Was it my hallucination ?
Both were killed in car accident -
I never forgot that event.
I was stunned ! In surprise, I found
the graveyard all around.
Starting my journey from the womb,
reached last destination to tomb.
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- "Stoned"
I laughed in the phone, said “I know,
you like to haunt me wherever I go,
you may have died and lost a lung
but continue with your sharp tongue”
My aunt is still trying to make a point,
she never liked to see me smoke a joint.
She’s always was a Budweiser beer girl,
maybe I’ll stop grass and give Bud a whirl!
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
“I know you think that I am dead.”
“I’m alive”- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you’re just- “Stoned”
I stared at the screen, my mind in a twist,
Her name on the caller ID still exists.
I stammered and asked, “Is this some cruel joke?”
As I exhaled another thick cloud of sweet smoke.
She laughed out a cackle that shook my bare bones,
And said, “Check your pocket for misplaced headphones.”
I looked down and realized with a slow, hazy grin,
“It was just a podcast that I’d turned on again.”
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
“I know you think that I am dead”
“I’m alive”-my auntie moaned
Or-could it be that you’re just-“Stoned”
I blinked real hard and checked my face,
Then asked, “Auntie, how’d you call this place?”
She said, “Boy, hush, don’t question grace,
They finally got Wi-Fi in this place.”
“But Heaven’s strict, the rules are known,
No matches, papers, pipes, or cones.
So if you love me, don’t ask why-
just pass a cloud up to the sky.”
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- "Stoned"
My! My! The signal's strong from six feet down
We've got the best dead-net phone in town
No dropped calls when old bones are phoned
And ghosts complain they've been monotoned.
I rubbed my eyes and scratched my head
"You're calling me from beyond the dead?"
She said, "Don't dread the dearly departed"
"We're not dialled-out" Just getting started"
UNFINISHED NOVEL
by Matthew Tripley
Once, an author I tried to be...
Dazed In The Life was my story.
Movies and music - central themes
Plotting characters and their schemes.
Surrounding the shootings of breeze,
Misbehaviour and murder sprees.
Put together in their fusion...
Somewhat coming to conclusion.
Summary, I will try to tell
If my memory serves me well.
Nebula and Desdemona...
Teenage girls, twirlers by stoner.
The latter, main protagonist...
The first one, there to coexist.
Drug use, their preoccupation...
Truant in their education.
Upon the road, an accident...
Death of a father - heaven sent.
His daughter's personal chaos
Which stems out of this sudden loss.
Years of practised self-destruction...
Mayhem rising - no deduction.
Mostly centred around one day,
More characters come into play.
Marijuana smoking brother.
A widowed and using mother.
A walking, talking enigma
With his passion for cinema.
A dealer and a trolley boy.
Two lesbians, each other's toy.
All who come across each other...
Points of plot from one another.
Confrontations of a female...
Missions of murder left in trail.
Acquaintance with a hat on top.
The server in a bottle shop.
A teacher who becomes a mate.
A pair of junkies with ill fate...
The killing of them taking place
In another man's garage space.
At the end, a resolution
Simple in its execution.
Ceasing of substance depending...
Desdemona's happy ending.
Not looked into for a while,
This story sits on a pile.
Perhaps with the correct mindset,
I may start to re-pen it yet.