four and twenty.

stoners of the world,
suck my balls!
today's the kind of day that is perpetually lame
for every really real worthy non-turd activator.
uh-huh.
four twenty, all day long,
and no potheaded weed smokers are invited to my
clambake, that's for sure.
actually, no clams are scheduled to be harmed in the
making of this vegan-friendly twenty four hour period.
y'know what i did at 4:20 a.m.?
nothin', neighbors-
i was blissfully obliged to obey the oblivion
of sleepytime predawn recuperation.
that's real.
bowls are for ceral, son,
cottonmouths are for snakes,
red eyes are for airlines,
and stoner designed assault rifles
because in the woodsly goodness
we've got no time for weak-sauce minky-mouthed
munchie-huntin' gaytards and their illegitimate holidays
celebrating the sh!t-salad smoked-out tie dyed
doo-doo butter and juggalo jerkoffery of being lame.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
we're repping on that just BE dope jauns,
not some sally-caked suck-A* suckling of a joint;
not a knee or an elbow or a finger, ninjas.
well,
maybe a thumb, because all that crybaby
suckery of the waterbabyish weed culture rationalization
can take a hike, and get hitched to all the other b!tchsap
that battles the burliness of barbarian battle-beast business.
y'know?
real ones just do what they do.
sober, solid, and serious.
wordimus prime.
you wanna smoke somethin'?
try smoking poles.
awwwwwwwwwwww.
i meant like the german blitzkrieg, duders.
hey-O!
it's also the birthday of a long-dead bag of crap,
responsible for inspiring that last total world war.
i'll bet it was windy when that happened.
that's the worst.
just like today.
it's all happening,
every glazed-up crsytally nug and neo-nazi idiot explosion.
however,
active participation and family togetherness
and super-dope warrior poetry are also just as actually occurring.
checks and balances and all that noise.
the best and worst and everything else;
never quiet, never soft.....