Finding fat fleas
dirty dog disease
Scrappy’s summertime scratch
makes me mad.
single skin spliff
come set us adrift
with a wicked weed whiff.
the nature of the sun is to shine.
what’s mine is thine.
mi casa su casa my brother.
after this we can always make another.
whaddo i want?
i wanna be an adult when i grow up.
when do i wannit?
when i wake up.
well, give me half an hour
to open my eyes
and prise myself from where i lie.
whaddo i want?
jus’ to plod along
and write rubbish rhymes and songs.
to smoke spliffs but not bongs.
i don’t want much.
jus’ more than i’m due.
sitting here stoned i appear confused.
peppered with apathy this pathetic poet.
a pathetic poet
a prophetic poet this beast of a false priest of his own fleeced flock.
i know what we are and are not.
we are here for fun
where there are highs there are lows
my soul is stupid.
it knows what to do.
find the middle line there’s so much to lose.
everything to gain if i play the game of the sane.
those were the daze,
orange bud and purple haze,
football in the school-field
we would play
(seems like only yesterday).
first team to twenty, there’s plenty of time.
“nah i aint playin’, makin’ a spliff by the side.”
“who else is coming?” is the common cry.
“Matty, Nik an’ Quang. Keith’s a bit shy”
“cool that’s at least ten a side.”
“ye but Gary’s making a spliff.”
“don’t worry, he’ll be quick.”
“hey!” Craig cries “share the stick.”
“don’t worry you’ll get two’s on the zoot
me ol’ fruit.”
“here comes Nik in his Doc Marten boots.”
on and on goes the song of the summer
in the daze of our youth we were aloof to slumber.
an evening of passion followed by an empty bed
how can i sleep when thoughts creep into my head?
am i a fool to drool over you?
are you silly to see in me what cannot be?
barely in her twenties, such a sight to behold,
her whispered words cause me to grow bold .
where are you Weed when i need you so?
my pulse is too strong and needs to slow.
If i build a spliff, will it set you adrift?
One pull at a time, you spin the line
of how you share without a care.
The rhyme in my mind is taking its time to unwind.
Being talked to, not with.
You’re only here for my spliff.
But i don’t say that, we all have our needs.
It’s lonely at the bottom, running out of deeds.
To smoke weed or breed?
That was the question!
Asphyxiate, learn to hate.
Hold it in.
Don’t be dirty.
Don’t get shirty with me,
Why do women bleed?!
‘Pon my door;
So they call themselves the law?!
What the f
uck they want me for?
Prob’ly come to steal my draw!
So the lil pig says:
“Let me in, let me in!”
Not by the hairs on my