Amen, Mary Jane
Local Girls
Field of greens
A vision that sought me out while on a comforter of limes
And, with a poking elbow attack, I could tell that I had bothered the local girl
It would appear that my smokey indulgence went into overdrive.
Had not the ceiling opened up and the walls curled.
I would have considered the world flat…not circular.
…
I have had daffodil dust moments before.
But when I discuss this in plain sight…
This foreplay bothersome for local girls
and
I am banished from sight.
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Help from a Gen X-er
Me? Generation X…and, damned proud of it.
In case you were curious…this definition, pretty much sums up myself and many of those around us.
considered laid back
prone to psychological disorders
beaten by their parents
disaffected
and
without any real direction.
However, that does not mean, I, WE the X’s, do not care about the world at large. However, however, I, WE the X’s, never really had to deal with war…other than at home.
Because I care. Because #45 is more of an ass than I ever was drinking. Because that little guy over in North Korea is the world’s largest walking S.T.D. Because the threat of nuclear attack being as critical today…as during the cold war.
Because, because, because of the wonderful things an Nuclear Blast does!
A list of Do’s and Don’t During A Nuclear Attack had been made –
If alive…walk about a mile. Do not go any further…because you wouldn’t be able to anyway.
- Find a city. If you live in rural New Hampshire like I do. Well, S.O.L Sisters and Brothers. Find a barn or an underground outhouse.
- Attend a lecture. Why? I am uncertain. But in the 50’s…it had been a suggestion!
- Seek shelter! Your ass is following off. And, you must sew it back with thread doused in radiation.
- Wait! Believe or not, and this is our good luck! That pesky death-ridden dust rots quickly!
If unable to move, run, stay calm…
- Duck and Cover goddamn it!
- Hide! But if you were never good at Hide and Seek…cover your head. That’s just as good as, a table or couch, anyway!
- Keep your fuckin’ eyes shut! Who wants to see the carnage anyway?
- Buy a can opener. That is if you can find a store open during the doomsday chaos. Before I had been kicked out of the Girl Scouts…metal can openers, were all the rage.
- Ring a Helpline or Hotline! Now I did some checking on this and found only two legit phone numbers. And, I am not allowed to share that information.
Now this is very, very, important…Smile! What is the worse that can happen…after having just been in a nuclear attack? My suggestion would be…before all this happens. Back when you and your loved ones are gathered around the radio. Listening for updates about the two dictators. Find yourself a cedar cigar box. Gather all the pot! The stuff under the couch cushions. The little baggies you left hidden in the car’s ashtray! The ashtray you never use.
Scrape resin, dig out those pipes and put your stash in the cedar box. Put it in the box and wrap it with ducttape. Wrap it ten times around. If you can’t duct it. Fuck it! Never let go of that box.
You, I, Us, will need a good high when all this shit is done!
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Tales from the Bong
Mindfulness Begins at Home
One toke…and, another one set and ready to go. Mid exhale! A knock to the off the hinge trailer door.
“Who is it?”
No answer arrived. Just a chill reminding me of my father’s work-boots climbing cement steps.
In between a puff, a gag and all consuming red eyes…
Mindfulness ambled in wearing rainbow pride.
He asked if I had stopped by the free pile? You know the one. The one at the town dump. He told me…a fortune of awareness sat there. Sat there in a floral, funeral urn. He seemed to think carrying the ‘awareness’ jug on this day, was my turn.
Confused and disoriented and slightly stoned…
I stuttered, “Leaving yesterday morning with icicles hanging from the short hairs… I had been given the message from the Goddess…you must go.”
So, I went to the old beater, duct taped the hood, hopped in, stepped into a pile of snow. Just a little hiccup with the broken windows and the direction of the wind that blows.
Mr. Mindfulness appeared quite bewildered. Scratching his dread lock wig…I could see he saw me as, half baked.
“Look”, I said.
“Its like this. I got to Easy street and Pay It Forward square. I don’t remember ever seeing a four way stop there. ‘Truckin’ came on the FM. You know the verse:”
Most of the cats that you meet on the streets speak of true love,
Most of the time they’re sittin’ and cryin’ at home.
One of these days they know they better get goin’
Out of the door and down on the streets all alone.
Enjoying the windchill of 30 below. Admiring the workings of signs and what they mean to say.
I turned straight around. Chanting ‘be thoughtful of others and try to always be kind.’ And, then I thought…just for today; I’m going back for another toke. And, today I would be mindful of my mind.
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A Monkey, A Lizard, A Crocodile
A monkey is sitting in a tree, smoking a joint, when a lizard walks past.
The lizard looks up and says, “Hey! What are you doing?’
The monkey says, “Smoking a joint, come and join me.”
So the lizard climbs up and sits next to the monkey and they smoke another joint.
After a while the lizard says his mouth is ‘dry’, and that he’s going to get a
drink from the river.
At the riverbank, the lizard is so stoned that he leans too far over and falls in.
A crocodile see this and swims over to the stoned lizard, helping him to the side.
Then he ask the lizard, “Whats up with you?” The lizard explains to the crocodile
that he was sitting in a tree, smoking a joint with the monkey and his mouth
got dry, and that he was so wasted…that when he got a drink from the river…
he fell in.
The inquisitive crocodile says he has to check this out. He walks into the jungle
and finds the tree where the monkey fell from. The monkey is sitting there finishing
the joint.
He looks up and says, “Hey monkey!”
The monkey looks down and says,
“Dude, how much water did you drink?”
