The Grim Reefer - A Poem...
The Grim Reefer
The strength of his hand,
He rolled one with ease,
A skilled craftsman...
With a match, he lit,
And fired up his joe,
Took a mighty hit,
And felt his head grow,
Expanding his mind,,
Beyond belief,
Like the sun-shaped ridges,
On a Cannabis leaf.
He smoked up a cloud,
And looked at the crowd,
Standing, staring,
Not really caring,
About the reefer...
A wizened old man,
A forlorn griever,
With a joint in his hand...
I've created another blog.
One that will feature just poetry...
Chances are I'll end up spending more time there, than here because poetry comes quite easily to me nowadays...
Moreover, I don't really have much to ramble about, let alone make sense...
Visit me there;
http://verse-inverse.blogspot.com/
7 Comments:
Hehe i know most men hate it when I say this but what the hell I'm gonna say it anyway..ITS DAMN CUTE..LOL
PS: "Like the sun-shaped ridges,
On a Cannabis leaf."- NICEE!
he he nice stuff
yup poetry sure seems to be flowing smoothly
now dont dissapear again
n why dont u just merge the two blogs
either way dont mind as long as u keep feeding my appetite for quality blogs
Nice...
Really good
Hmm.. the joint., i agree :D
W.O.A.H
WLACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
WLACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
WLACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
YOU'RE GAY!!!!!
cannabis..cannibal..carnival..
a festival for carnivourous leaf eaters..make sense to you? yeah same here.
miss you.nice poem.that's it.
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