Chubby chasers, bbw lovers and feeders.
Some like their partner's fat.
Jiggle jiggle, let it roll.
That's all fine and dandy but there's one breed that takes the cake; literally.
Feeders find and feeders feed.
That's the name of the game so you better be hungry.
They like their significant others extremely hefty.
200, 300? Go higher to the almighty! More like you better weigh 500 to 600 if you want to catch one of these.
They like to see the ladies smash their faces in cake, bbq, whatever will stretch their stomachs.
Watch out because once you reach that ultimate limit they leave.
Maybe feeling you helpless.
Feeders feed and that's the name of the game.
He lived in his parent's garage well into his 30's.
He was handsome with black eyes and black glossy curls.
He was most often oddly quiet - doing his own thing they said.
He never seemed to be upset, or unhappy, or complain about anything.
He tricked out sports cars and smoked a lot of weed.
He never could seem to hold anything together long,
Not a job, not a girlfriend, not payin' his bills, not even a pet.
He hung himself in the garage.
He left a note saying "I'm sorry".
He was my cousin.
All the wondering ended in whispers,
"It was the ganja" they would say,
but in their eyes you could tell that
they really weren't sure.
Coffee...so many are hard-core hooked...
Thinking that without it, they'd truly be f*cked.
Never realizing the ongoing extent of the damage
Nor noticing the exact extremes of their daily consumed disadvantage.
You'll never pry it our of their hands,
Unless maybe they learn to care some more about their adrenal glands.
Harvest season is almost here.
It depends what time you planted during the year.
September through October but some autoflower in November.
Sativa, Indica or Hybrids.
Growers are excited to show off their crops, sell and smoke.
Drying, curing and best of all the worldly harvest toke.
Green with amber hairs and a frosty outer coat.
Trim the leaves and make butters, edibles or rubbing creams.
There are endless things
to what the harvest brings.
Space filled with banalities
that takes up space and obscures what's most important.
If what I write can fool you, I can fool me... at least as long as I'm telling it, eh?
Space to supposedly write whatever I want to say, but there are constraints...
so I have space but it is questionable if I have the space to say I can't.
Or I can within "parameters"...
If I am so inclined.
If I want to.
If I want to protest it.
If I want to tell you I can't.
That I won't.
That I'm stuck.
That someone is making me choke it in.
Space between me an you, the earth and sky, a measurable distance supposedly
but not really one I've ever been able to transverse reliably, repetitively.
Does that even matter or is it like climbing Mount Everest?
'Fault blind' is my new best friend I carry around with me,
I carry it in my pocket and even share it around with others to see, it's an ignorant place for me to be- where I ignore all the bad things which others may see. My lateness, my rudeness, my inability to talk, All hide behind my shyness and runaway walk.
My faults can be nasty and eat away at my life,
At times they have been helpful and shown me right from wrong,
They've helped me make my mistakes and learning not seem quite so long,
But adultulting adults are expected to accept faults when they arrive.
Welcome them, greet them and give them high fives!
We all have our faults, some we don't see, some we are blind to, some others we feed.
But maybe one day my faults really can be my friends when I'm true to myself and I'm finally 'on the mend'.
I'll admit to all my faults with a clear fine mind, it would mean living for me and being kind and not accepting my usual order of comfortable 'fault blind'.
I was told you would be a big help,
Who knew I'd find more relief with kelp?
All my attempts brought many trials and errors,
Several of whom only brought about even more tragic terrors.
Until one day...I got so lucky,
Found one who really gets it and doesn't make me feel yucky.
Spark's been ignited,
No need to fight it,
Your heart's not being indicted,
Although it's been sadly misguided,
Re-whole yourself and live within, undivided,
Feel your heart and brain become reunited,
Parts of you may forever feel undecided,
Especially once you begin to feel somewhat delighted,
Just hold on tight and remember there's no escape to sometimes feeling slighted.
Burning in my native prayer
to hold the sacred space,
perfume the air.
gentle, kind, less spoken
words that are said - come from the
heart, soul, spirit - mind.
the taste of it mixed other herbs
invites our buds to enjoy the remarkable
pleasures of this food.
After we pray - the wise one sits down and we all
share the blessed food; laugh, cry, tell ancient stories,
howl at the moon,
Then sleep all huddled together
while our prayers lifted on the smoke
await the light of the grandmothers
to be answered very soon.