While weed could help your mood soften
Dear roommate you toked too often
The pot you would smoke
On you played a joke
As you're at rest in a coffin
Categories:
toked, abuse, drug,
Form: Limerick
When asked if he toked the evil weed,
William Jefferson Clinton (né?Blythe III),
aka, Bill Clinton, we heard, did indeed,
if not totally beyond the pale
these words he spoke,
"I smoked but didn’t inhale,"
and altho' with no proof, yet by the book,
with that he was off the hook.
Then came Monica Lewinsky,
their relationship he lied to hide,
accused with obstruction of justice,
for him to be impeachment-free,
with the mess all down her dress,
the chain of evidence was there to follow,
of the fateful day Bill only had to say,
"She sucked but didn't swallow."
Categories:
toked, humorous, usa, word play,
Form: Rhyme
I sat on what we have always called our marked bench and smoked.
Just wish you were here with me, because we could have toked,
The sad thing is I only wish you would be a little more stoked.
Categories:
toked, devotion, drug, first love,
Form: Sijo
We're all just clocks and we're all just ticking. What did you tick today?
Did you tik of love, or tok of peace?
Did you chime at midnight rest?
Or did you leave the gift of time, to a watch of far more less?
For it is we who guard it's ancient lane, as we and it progress, the future upon our face is written, just tik and tok your best.
And every clock you see today, your hands be holding true, for the truth of tik and tok is this, every clock be you.
Now tik and tok along with all, a chorus made so great, the future know we guard its right, to peace, and love, and faith.
No matter how we clocks, look or sound in tune, remember time goes best, because they're ticking toking too.
And every time you've tik and toked, making sure you knew, all the hands on every clock had dared to also move.
All good clocks do chime together, across the world and it's land, and when all good clocks have come together we'll finally stand a chance.
Categories:
toked, extended metaphor, future, wisdom,
Form: Free verse
She took Santa for a ride in her red Ferrari.
He had told her he needed a pick-me-up.
She drove like the devil, was short like an elf.
He was fattened by cookies, not at all himself.
Why were reindeer just lazing about? Rubs
his eyes. Where is that red-nosed disguise?
That she-devil clattered all over the road.
Santa was used to flying high with his workload.
She talked, talked, talked, as her lips toked.
She croaked like a frog, conversation was abhorrent.
He was certain she ran over wildlife on purpose.
Bump, bump, bumping down the road made him nervous.
What would Mrs. Santa say, when he tried to explain?
How did he get into this Christmas dilemma? The milk
was sort of whiskey sour and he drained the cup.
Now he’s down on the earth instead of up, up, up.
Something overhead catches his attention. A sled!
Who holds the reins, but his wife; and she looks mad.
She’s ready to kick some red-headed Ferrari butt.
If she wasn’t North Pole nice would’ve called her more than a nut.
Categories:
toked, christmas,
Form: Rhyme
I haven’t toked in many years
And though it’s just as well,
In Amsterdam three years ago,
My nose picked up that smell.
I breathed in deep and reminisced
About my younger days,
Those weekend nights engulfed in such
A mellow stoned-out haze.
These days in New York City, though,
A scent pervades the air.
It’s weed, I’m told, but to the old stuff
It does not compare.
In fact, its noxious odor
Comes the closest to a skunk.
I wonder if imbibers
Are aware they stink, stank, stunk!
When we partook so long ago,
The ways that one could tell
Were our beatific faces
And our cravings – not our smell!
Categories:
toked, nostalgia, senses,
Form: Rhyme
I woke up and toked,
wrapped up the little jokes,
and led the flow of traffic on down the road...
I'm not Casper but I sher Boo the mood of plaster,
I'd rather stiff at narks to break cards,
with hard farce,
never gettin' pulled over by the words-
...wait in giant leaps,
I can see the next comin' just down the street!
If it was company I'd meet,
but since they're strangers I creep,
wait in song and sing lead!
You lead!
I am a man,
I am looking at the disease!
Wasted on my knees,
I can wait for eternities,
never caring about the breeze,
the cold shoulder,
or the person that stinks-
its all just a place-
a disastrous phase-
earning loads of lore and lies,
mainlining out of personalities,
so come up and peek,
it could only hurt a little cheek,
why wreck the day when there is cause to play?
Categories:
toked, devotion, faith, hope, inspirational,
Form: Imagism
Life like from a fish bowl, really!
Way ... encapsulated like above and behind, you know?
All those like gilded dado's of peachy-pink, gnarly puff, sweet aye?
All those awesome totally rad houses of
flannel-gray San Fran's Victorian Ladies, classic!
Life all sweet and wrapped in the ledges and overhangs, really!
Portcullis like totally frail, precious, half formed, clueless babes.
Really, half the town is like crazed!
Full of what-evers and dandy duds like newborns
each Lilliputian pop-up a sweet meat, smoked
stoked and toked inside their saccharin selves.
Life's a gay and grodie array of colorful buggers.
A,gag me with a spoon, side show of hard candy colored covers.
Really, like jujubes shaken from raspberry doors...
So take a chill pill, a coffee toffee, a licorice bit, a vanilla sucker
and get your most excellent self
with your killer looks and like surprisingly soft center
to sweet Ole San Francisco's scene.
*internal line rhyme [not end rhyme ;)]
** 1980's Cal i forn i a English
Contest: Talk Like That
Sponsor:Craig Cornish
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Categories:
toked, funny, history, satire, sweet,
Form: Verse
We called him the dooch or the mini,
who puffed all his dope like a chimney
he would grind up that budd,
like a crip or a blood
and rolled up two blunts and a skinny.
The very first time that he smoked,
his chest became swelled as he choked
and he tried to inhale,
his complexion grew pale
passing out from the buzz that he toked.
Eventually he learned how to puff,
and of course he was feeling so tough
deciding to pop in a shroom,
something so new to consume
but the amount was not nearly enough.
The days and the nights became long,
he thought deeply about getting a bong
the thrill from that weed,
was all he would need
a world with no right and no wrong.
for Dom,
Il vero scrittore non mette mai tutto nel suo libro.
Categories:
toked,
Form: I do not know?