Monday, April 27, 2015
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Wanna Get High?
So many good things in the making,
So many things to get baking,
But set that aside,
And listen to my rhyme,
The iPhone game app Im making,
Will tickle your thighs.
[and maybe give you hives]
The T-shirt were coming out with will put all apostophes to shame,
Again and again,
And again and again.
Dont question my logic,
Ive been cumming rhymes,
And shitting compact discs since you werr six.
THIS IS OUR YEAR!
Stay tuned for:
Mobile Game,
New T-shirt designs,
Dank Master comic [read issue 1 online]
Dank Master feature film!
LETS DO THIS!
("wanna get high?")
www.dank-master.com
Dank Master comic on Facebook
So many things to get baking,
But set that aside,
And listen to my rhyme,
The iPhone game app Im making,
Will tickle your thighs.
[and maybe give you hives]
The T-shirt were coming out with will put all apostophes to shame,
Again and again,
And again and again.
Dont question my logic,
Ive been cumming rhymes,
And shitting compact discs since you werr six.
THIS IS OUR YEAR!
Stay tuned for:
Mobile Game,
New T-shirt designs,
Dank Master comic [read issue 1 online]
Dank Master feature film!
LETS DO THIS!
("wanna get high?")
www.dank-master.com
Dank Master comic on Facebook
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
4:20
4:20,
A weed something?
A thing?
A day?
A time?
A pyelp?
Yes,
And no...
A time to wash your taint?
A time to fry a bologa sandwich?
Yes,
And no...
A time to poop and wipe?
A time to fish for trout?
Yes, and no.
Four twenty,
A day,
A box on a page,
On a calander,
With things typed on it.
Four Twenty,
A poem about nothing,
A blog post for a derelect,
A spelling error for your pleasure,
Typed out carefully and measured,
Make sure you dont crap your pants,
Advice from the sages.
Dont forget to bring a towel.
Lunatic writer on the loose,
Catch him if you can,
Im the gingerbread man!
www.dank-master.com
A weed something?
A thing?
A day?
A time?
A pyelp?
Yes,
And no...
A time to wash your taint?
A time to fry a bologa sandwich?
Yes,
And no...
A time to poop and wipe?
A time to fish for trout?
Yes, and no.
Four twenty,
A day,
A box on a page,
On a calander,
With things typed on it.
Four Twenty,
A poem about nothing,
A blog post for a derelect,
A spelling error for your pleasure,
Typed out carefully and measured,
Make sure you dont crap your pants,
Advice from the sages.
Dont forget to bring a towel.
Lunatic writer on the loose,
Catch him if you can,
Im the gingerbread man!
www.dank-master.com
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Munched-out Third Eye
Munched out and ready to crunch a log out.
Full of shit and burnt like a lit tip,
Bong rip,
Nipple slip,
Rumplestiltzkin foreskin,
And all things wrinkled and thin,
Like a joint rolled on a whim,
And a dim-whit rollin stems.
Munched out,
Lunched out,
Lights out,
What its all about?
Medicated or sedated?
Why you gotta make it complicated,
Gettin yer dog high,
And then teaching it how to fly,
While crack heads are doing drive-bys,
Medicators meditate their third eye's wide.
So wide that no one can hide,
A Sheriff with a stiff boner,
Stalks the playground looking for a fresh hide.
Light a spliff minus the to-back,
Fix yer stiff back,
And throw away your crack.
Donate your winnings to charities of my choice,
And save a portion of your pay check,
Your futures one thought away,
Make your dream come true today,
Cold-turk your addiction to pay-day,
And put some passion into your day,
BEFORE May,
Dont give your days away for a lowsy pay!
Take your power back,
The choice to use youre thinker,
Wax your dinkus,
And get on board!
Drop out if your bored,
And step out of the mental ward,
Out of the crowd and onto the winning board.
FOR MORE WINNING CHELLIS check out:
www.dank-master.com
Full of shit and burnt like a lit tip,
Bong rip,
Nipple slip,
Rumplestiltzkin foreskin,
And all things wrinkled and thin,
Like a joint rolled on a whim,
And a dim-whit rollin stems.
Munched out,
Lunched out,
Lights out,
What its all about?
Medicated or sedated?
Why you gotta make it complicated,
Gettin yer dog high,
And then teaching it how to fly,
While crack heads are doing drive-bys,
Medicators meditate their third eye's wide.
So wide that no one can hide,
A Sheriff with a stiff boner,
Stalks the playground looking for a fresh hide.
Light a spliff minus the to-back,
Fix yer stiff back,
And throw away your crack.
Donate your winnings to charities of my choice,
And save a portion of your pay check,
Your futures one thought away,
Make your dream come true today,
Cold-turk your addiction to pay-day,
And put some passion into your day,
BEFORE May,
Dont give your days away for a lowsy pay!
Take your power back,
The choice to use youre thinker,
Wax your dinkus,
And get on board!
Drop out if your bored,
And step out of the mental ward,
Out of the crowd and onto the winning board.
FOR MORE WINNING CHELLIS check out:
www.dank-master.com
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Dont read this one.
Another one,
Just for good luck,
As piano plays in the next room,
I push little buttons with my fingertips,
That are all lined up in semi-organised rows.
My hands seem to know what to do,
Im letting them take over,
And now the brain is completely disconnected,
Except through neural networks.
Brain, tell me what to do,
Im getting bored touching this plastic.
Ok, write "Ok, write"
...now what.
No, dont type that.
Ok I wont ;)
But seriously...
www.dank-master.com
Just for good luck,
As piano plays in the next room,
I push little buttons with my fingertips,
That are all lined up in semi-organised rows.
My hands seem to know what to do,
Im letting them take over,
And now the brain is completely disconnected,
Except through neural networks.
Brain, tell me what to do,
Im getting bored touching this plastic.
Ok, write "Ok, write"
...now what.
No, dont type that.
Ok I wont ;)
But seriously...
www.dank-master.com
A poem
Hello!
Its been a couple days.
Its been a couple months.
Its been a couple years.
... I forgot what I was going to say.
Oh yes,
Its been a couple of days,
Since I posted a poem,
Its been a couple of months,
Since I started this blog,
Its been a couple of years,
Since I forgot what to say.
But it just happened again.
Thats what happens when you name a poem "A poem"
Without even captializing it.
It doesnt feel respected,
and takes you nowhere.
But then redeems itself somehow,
And an arc of sun,
Shoots in the wondowsill,
And a thing makes a sound,
And another thing does, too.
TRIPPING MUCH??
www.dank-master.com
Its been a couple days.
Its been a couple months.
Its been a couple years.
... I forgot what I was going to say.
Oh yes,
Its been a couple of days,
Since I posted a poem,
Its been a couple of months,
Since I started this blog,
Its been a couple of years,
Since I forgot what to say.
But it just happened again.
Thats what happens when you name a poem "A poem"
Without even captializing it.
It doesnt feel respected,
and takes you nowhere.
But then redeems itself somehow,
And an arc of sun,
Shoots in the wondowsill,
And a thing makes a sound,
And another thing does, too.
TRIPPING MUCH??
www.dank-master.com
Friday, April 3, 2015
Still a Little Trippy
Trippity Z,
Wen out one day,
To frolic the hills,
Around the bay.
But Trippity Z,
Was trippity balls,
All the way home...
www.dank-master.com
Wen out one day,
To frolic the hills,
Around the bay.
But Trippity Z,
Was trippity balls,
All the way home...
www.dank-master.com
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Because Youre Reading This
Because youre reading this,
I am writing it.
Not the other way around.
Start from the ground up.
Youre conceiving this,
Way or that,
But all youre getting,
Is a few lines of crap.
The art of it all,
Is made in your mind,
For that I take no credit,
It was there the whole time.
And then you decided to let it out,
Right at the beginning of this blog,
And are deciding to keep it until now,
Where is belonged all along.
For what is a poem,
Without a reader,
A sack of rubbish,
Or something else British.
No,
No, not that.
This is not art.
It was just me working up,
To this majestic fart!
-wish you could be here with me to smell it.
P.S. I really didn't fart.
OH LOOK AT THAT, AN APOSTROPHE!
www.dank-master.com
I am writing it.
Not the other way around.
Start from the ground up.
Youre conceiving this,
Way or that,
But all youre getting,
Is a few lines of crap.
The art of it all,
Is made in your mind,
For that I take no credit,
It was there the whole time.
And then you decided to let it out,
Right at the beginning of this blog,
And are deciding to keep it until now,
Where is belonged all along.
For what is a poem,
Without a reader,
A sack of rubbish,
Or something else British.
No,
No, not that.
This is not art.
It was just me working up,
To this majestic fart!
-wish you could be here with me to smell it.
P.S. I really didn't fart.
OH LOOK AT THAT, AN APOSTROPHE!
www.dank-master.com
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Wipe
Listening to Primus,
Wishing my glands were leaking LSD,
But theyre not.
Why did you say that?
Huh?
What?
Oh, this isnt Primus,
Its Coloniel Claypools Bucket of Bernie Brains.
And I do not poop.
So stop telling me.
And I therefore do not wipe,
Dont judge me.
And I do not type,
I hire somone to moniter my thoughts.
But I dont pay them to spell correctly,
Or use apostrophes.
Maybe Ill pay them to wipe for me,
Like a Sumo wretlers wifey.
Look it up,
No, dont.
Read the rest of this first.
And "like" it,
And "share" it,
And +1 it,
And anything else you can do.
And then everyone will know the secret of wiping.
And the world will be a better place.
www.dank-master.com
Wishing my glands were leaking LSD,
But theyre not.
Why did you say that?
Huh?
What?
Oh, this isnt Primus,
Its Coloniel Claypools Bucket of Bernie Brains.
And I do not poop.
So stop telling me.
And I therefore do not wipe,
Dont judge me.
And I do not type,
I hire somone to moniter my thoughts.
But I dont pay them to spell correctly,
Or use apostrophes.
Maybe Ill pay them to wipe for me,
Like a Sumo wretlers wifey.
Look it up,
No, dont.
Read the rest of this first.
And "like" it,
And "share" it,
And +1 it,
And anything else you can do.
And then everyone will know the secret of wiping.
And the world will be a better place.
www.dank-master.com
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