poemsonly

Listen young son and hear the tale
Of when 301 smoked up a bale
We sat around on the big blue bed
We smoked 5 bowls streight to our heads
We swore and raved we'd never quit
When passed around we took a hit
Wether in the gas mask or in the glass pipe
When we drewled, the tip we'd wipe
We blocked the door with a big beach towl
For angry RA's were on the prowl
We knew that we would not get caught
Over the bong we never fought
For about an hour we were OK
But then Josh G. rolled up a J
We walked out to the parking lot
Our pockets full of bags of pot
We drove out to the Turlock suburbs
And in the car we smoked mad herbs
We headed out to the taco truck
A Tuesday night, who gives a fuck
We ordered up buritos three
We handed the man the nine dollar fee
Back at the dorms we did arive
A stoned out, fucked up, crazy drive
At the bat cave we lit one up
Then drank 2 bottles of 7up
At 3:00 the clock would say
With no homework on the couch we'd lay
For this one night was almost done
But not before our one last fun
We decided we would make up a blunt
A big ass fuck and not a runt.
When we were finished we had no weed
The whole OZ was blaced up with speed

I was born on a day with no sunshine, no rain
I was born on a day with no pleasure, no pain
I was born on a day with no now and, no then
I was born on a day no I can't tell you when
I was born on a day with no flowers, no trees
I was born on a day with no birds and no bees
I was born on a day with no fiction, no fact
I was born on a day with no excess, no lack
I was born on a day with no sickness, no health
I was born on a day with no poorness, no wealth
I was born on a day with no love and no hate
I was born on a day with no hurry up and no wait
I was born on a day with no school and no job
I was born on a day with no clean freak, no slob
I was born on a day that I can't quite recall
I was born on a day that was no day at all!

Time Slips By Slowly Like A Cold Drip Of Paint
On Our Lifes' Canvas I Do So Want To Paint
In Our Large Factories
            Our Churches
                   Our Schools
We Think We Are Brilliant But We Just Act Like F o o l s
In Mesopotamia
     In Georgia
            In Greece
In Prisons We Dwell Afraid Of Police
I Can't Say That I'm Homeless
Or I've Ever Been Poor
An Intelectual Bigot
Or A Hero Of War
I Like To Make Sentences A True Champion Of
W o r d s
But Language Is Bullshit Soliloquies For The Birds
A Walking Contradiction Dare I Say I Don't Try
A King Among Men
A Pathological lie

I am creating this page after a lot of really hard thought on my part ( not really). I just couldn't tell what was a serious poem and what was just some stoned or drunken bullshit. I want to put up some more of my real poems but found that they would probably just be lost among the other stuff that is on my webpage. On this page I will put up as much of my original poetry as possible and maye a few pics just to take up some free space. Enjoy my literary art work and have a nice day.

She is the one that I see in my dreams
Never will I look at another in this way
Place all my eggs in one basket
Tomorow I will end up with an omlet
Life and death in the blink of an eye
a tear in her eye
Nothing but a dimond
Knowledge and wisdom in the close of a book
a smile on her face
Nothing but a ray of pure sunlight
Her name enters my head and turns to an echo
I don't see an exit any time soon
To the future I know I must turn
To the past I know I will dwell
To her I know I will love

Blue is the night sky and blue is your car
My brother in golf always shoots under par
The watch on my arm and this pen in my hand
Life never goes by the skit I had planed
A ripple in time and a ripple in a pond
I use superstition as my magical wand
To shape our own lives like a tear in the wind
A note on your backpack so gracefully pinned

Tahoe Tahoe a mystical thought
To do all the things                that I know I will not
To dance like a dove              I shall sink like a rock
To tie my boat up to               that magical dock
I'd never say no                     to a seat in the rain
To endure all the pleasure        only to be met with the pain
The Lord the all mighty           or my own Anti-Christ
For all my good intentions       I     will pay the price

In 301 we have some fun in sunshine and in rain. We chill with Ducky, we chill with Josh, we even chill with Lane. A big green pipe sits in a box, upon it we do toke. We smoke mad buds all day, all night about that I don't joke. I have a futon, all big and blue, it sits under my bed. To tell the truth we do no drugs but always feed our heads. I can't recall in all my days a much more friendly troup. Our peeps are cool, we do not trip, like the selfish Santa group. I can't remember what we did last night, nonetheless what we did last week. Probably on the couch or on the porch but I know we did not tweak. For now I'll go for my time is up and I will write no more. I want to go back up to 301, and fall right on the floor.

Dial your cell phone and give me a call
My name is in the phone book my name is on the wall
A ring
A jingle
Or even a beep
I'm in your area code so the call will be cheep
You can send me an E-mail or a telegraph will do
If none of that works send a pigeon in lue
I must hear your voice so subtle so brash
I'll be your B.J. Honeycutt
We can reenact M.A.S.H.
Leave a message at the beep...........Even if we are
just Friends