The Perfect High Poem

He tried aspirin in cocacola breathed helium on the sly and his life was just one endless search to find that perfect high. He was nothing like me or you.

La Familia Poem By Mary Joy Antiola

The perfect high poem.

The perfect high poem. There once was a boy named gimmesome roy. High on a craggy mountaintop up a sheer and icy wall. The perfect high there once was a boy named gimme some roy.

Perfect poem can remember faces and hold grudges. He was nothin like me or you cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do. As a kid he sat in the cellarsniffing airplane glue.

The perfect high there once was a boy named gimmesome roy. There once was a boy named gimme some roy. And then he smoked bananas which was then the thing to do.

The perfect poem is not gold or lead or a garden gate locked shut or a sail slapping in a storm. And then he smoked banana peels when that was the thing to do. He was nothing like me or you.

The perfect high a poem by shel silverstein there once was a boy named gimmesome roy. Cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do. Well hell says roy im a healthy boy and ill crawl or climb or fly till i find that guru wholl give me the clue as to whats the perfect high so out and off goes gimme some roy to the land that knows no time up a trail no man could conquer to a cliff no man could climb.

He was nothing like me or you. It will not be available to answer questions. The perfect high there once was a boy named gimme some roy he was nothin like me or you cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do.

The perfect poem is its own favorite toy. But hell says roy im a healthy boy and ill crawl or climb or fly but ill find that guru wholl give me the clue as to whats the perfect high. It keeps its promises.

As a kid he sat in the cellar sniffing airplane glue. He was nothin like me or you cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do. It is not a state of mind or a kind of doubt or a good or bad habit or a flower of any color.

The book bench is all about hard drugs hard drinks and literary geniuses today so it seems a fitting time to post this video of shel silversteins pal larry moyers reading the perfect high a very kid unfriendly poem written by silverstein when he was presumably under the influence of something or other. Cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do. Cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do.

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