RhymePlay

I’m doin’ a seven-eight-six hullabaloo of a rhyme!

Let’s see if I can explain that. In each six-line unit, there is alternate rhyming, while each discrete three-unit follows the syllabic pattern of seven syllables, eight syllables, and six syllables. I have tried to keep it iambic, and I hope there is a name for the meter. Without further ado, here is it:

Stoned I sit, in blended bliss,

To rise to my sweet maiden sky

And offer her a kiss.

Worn and weary passers-by,

With eyes that wish to make a swish,

Pass quietly, as I sigh.

Lonely wit wants tenderness

And hearts need starts and ends again

While love do make its mess.

Tones of silver manly pain

Meanwhile does dress a board of chess,

Deep hidden, in the vein.

Keep me low for earthly woe,

And winds that scar the sky’s visage

To offer me a blow.

I pray to thy womb’s flotage:

It kept me going through the show,

Without a stumble large.

OKAY! Pre-script!: This was written literally along the lines of Dylan's Tambourine. So the likenesses are supposed to be there and strike out at the reader's mind. Please. And it shows how I would, someday, appeal to what I believe is a miracle of nature, that should be experienced only after a certain ripeness.



Hey Miss Marijuana, make a bong for me,
I’m not sleepy, but there’s a trip I want to go into
Hey Miss Marijuana, roll a joint for me,
Because this ancient nose of mine here starts a-followin’ you.

Oh I’ve been to life’s dustbins, searching for romance,
Slipping in my stance,
Kept on guiding both my hands to eyes a-weepin’,
My civil-ness amazes me; I’m stranded on a street,
Where only darkness greets,
Any restless stoner’s sweet-less hollow dreaming.

Hey Miss Marijuana, make a bong for me,
I’m not sleepy, but there’s a trip I want to go into
Hey Miss Marijuana, roll a joint for me,
Because this ancient nose of mine here starts a-followin’ you.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship,
Where senses once were stripped, and hands once felt no grip,
Until an airway strip
Was built upon our dreams to stop them wandering,
I’m ready to smoke anything, I’m ready for that state,
Like a drawing on a slate, or a dream upon a plate,
Come love me like you wanted it.

Hey Miss Marijuana, make a bong for me,
I’m not sleepy, but there’s a trip I want to go into
Hey Miss Marijuana, roll a joint for me,
Because this ancient nose of mine here starts a-followin’ you.

I just want to laugh and spin and swing up madly to the sun,
Till I’m thrown back by a gun, that’s been escaping everyone,
And been shooting at the stars and been erasing,
And if you could just grace me, for you I love divine,
Mary Jane I’ll make you mine, it’s just a silly trick of time,
And people call each other blind,
It’s just a looting of the scars that came while racing.

Hey Miss Marijuana, make a bong for me,
I’m not sleepy, but there’s a trip I want to go into
Hey Miss Marijuana, roll a joint for me,
Because this ancient nose of mine here starts a-followin’ you.

Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the groggy runes inside, a wasted poet’s mind,
The heartaches that he’d feel, when life went out of reach,
And thrust him into power’s heartless hollows.
Take me riding on a carpet high, until I reach the sea,
Where the sky did birth the breeze, and the sun danced with the trees,
With all harmony that rose from beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today, until tomorrow.

Hey Miss Marijuana, make a bong for me,
I’m not sleepy, but there’s a trip I want to go into
Hey Miss Marijuana, roll a joint for me,
Because this ancient nose of mine here starts a-followin’ you.