krunkpuppy

A poem based on the average American blue collar smoker.
By: Krunkpuppy

A rough day at the office,
Traffic all the way home,
A *****in wife, three crying kids,
And I feel all alone.

Bills stacked on the table,
The wife and I are broke.
There's only one way to relax now,
Gotta have a toke.

I quietly sneak into my room,
Bend down and lift the rug,
For underneath is a hidden treasure,
A crystal covered nug.

I break it up and fill my pipe
and to the barn I go.
I look around, check out the scene
To be sure I'm alone.

I first inhale, it feels my lungs
and all else fades away.
Because the weed has lifted me
I'll see another day.

I'm willing to risk the consequence
That my actions could bring.
Cause no matter what the circumstance
The weed will set me free.


P.S. Just a note to say thanks to everyone on MJ.Com. Your daily posts, ideas, creativity, constructive criticism, and stories are all appreciated. I enjoy this site and all it represents.

__________________
"Our country is in a sad state when the multitudes follow like sheep...programmed by the propaganda and lies. Sheep are eventually lead to slaughter. We are the few...We are the proud...We are the stoners. Spread the gospel..The weed will rise again." krunkpuppy