At a dojo where green dreams collide,
The competitors swayed like the tide.
With each punch and each kick,
They moved oh-so-slow, but slick,
And forgot what they’d practiced with pride.
One guy aimed a roundhouse to score,
But instead, he just sprawled on the floor.
His opponent just laughed,
Taking selfies, quite daft,
While the referee searched for the door.
As they rolled on the mats in a haze,
They debated the meaning of "phase."
With joints passed around,
They all gathered 'round,
To munch on some snacks and just blaze!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
