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 Jul 2018
Francie Lynch
One never expects one
Standing *****,
Straddled with club in hand;
There's a postage stamp
With pole and flag
Daring resolve and grit;
So one checks one's stance,
Sneaks a glance
And slightly adjusts one's grip;
Then a reaction occurs
Like controlled fussion,
And out of confusion comes sense.
The contact cements a crack and launch,
Startling one like a gun;
One scratches one's head,
Dumbfounded and red,
One's aced a hole-in-one.
Number four, but the word one appears twelve times in this poem. Eight to go.
 Jun 2018
Francie Lynch
I don't ride a Harley. Do you?
I have no need for ingots or ketchups. Have you?
I'm atheist. Are you a believer?
I'm in the body. Are you marginalized?
I respect LGBTQ. Are you in and out of your body?
I have a NEXUS. Do you have a country?
Good thing the air and sunshine have no borders.
It's not about me.
It's about us.
NEXUS: Preferred traveler document issued by the U.S. and Canada.
 Jun 2018
Francie Lynch
The hood won't be the same,
We're out standing in the rain,
To encourage sprouts as we once did our children;
For down the road you see it's as legal,
As a Timmy's and a cream-cheese bagel,
We're good to grow the free green grass at home.

On this side of our border,
Starting this October,
We'll bake it, vape it, roll and bowl to take it;
Down the road you see it's now legal,
The price of home grown's dropped to zero,
We're good to grow the free green grass at home.

Yes we're all on board to greet it,
Some inhale and some will eat it;
We're good to grow the free green grass at home.

I'm awake and it astounds me,
My four plants that surround me;
We've realized what we've long been dreaming;
For there's a store where we can cop some,
Come the fall fresh buds will blossom,
We're good to grow our free green grass at home.

Yes we're all on board to greet it,
Some inhale, and some will eat it,
We're good to grow our free green grass at home.
Sung to Tom Jones' "Green Green Grass of Home."
*** becomes legal in Canada on October 17th. We're permitted to grow four plants per household. Finally.
A "Timmy" is a Tim Hortons coffee.
 Jun 2018
Francie Lynch
We're mostly gregarious and polite,
Like most of you.
We too have our diplomatic trips 'n bumps;
We never cozied to Dicky;
But welcomed ex-pat refugees
For safe and sound reasons.
After the jimmy-rigging, how many re-pated?

And we gagged on the impeachables, all fuzzy and bitter.
He called the father that ******* in Ottawa;
And Pierre wore that moniker like The Order of Canada.
When you're not liked by one, you're a dove.

You should visit CANDU.wow
It has it all.

How is Supreme Leader managing?
Are his...
Are my people... sitting at attention.

We could real news a bomb a la Kim Jong,
Or flip a stone down at Port Huron.
We won't.
But we could if we weren't
The Great White North, so accommodating, so polite,
So Coo loo coo coo coo coo coo cooo! nice...
(for now)
The thing about dictators is, you don't know you have one til it's too late.
The CANDU is the largest nuclear reactor in the world, and used for all the ingredients needed for heat and intense heat.
There are 35 million Canadians who are the biggest importers of merchandise from 35 States, south of the border. A lot of people are going to be out of work.
"Coo loo coo..." is the theme song to the Bob and Doug McKenzie show on Second City.
 Jun 2018
Francie Lynch
The bell has been rung,
The grounds are teeming
With bullies scheming,
Lying, stealing and cheating.
Using bravado and blame
In the selection game.

It's up to the masses.
Make a decision,
One way or the other;
But the outcome's the same,
When the bells ring again.
We're embroiled in an election in Ontario for a new provincial government.
 May 2018
Viseract
When you knock the side of your head,
Is anyone home?
Or is the only response
That dull echo?

As dull and as thick as the ******* who owns it
Buys his comments from others, yeah you loan it
You know it's ****** how I can't even be myself
In virtual reality without being picked on by someone else?!

Do I really threaten you by being an up-and-comer?
Do you run home to your basement, just to tell your mother?
******* your thumb and ******* cousins to forget your troubles
But it never works, I'm always here, you daft mother-******!

I'm a mother ******* ghost and I'mma haunt your soul
Turn stupidity to comedy and swallow it all whole
Make it fresh content, regardless of the consequence
Til you leave me alone, ******, and let me be myself!

You know nothing about me, do they call you Jon Snow?
You know nothing *****, so pack your bags and catch the last bus home
You're just embarrassing yourself, you're a laughing stock
Look at all the comments I made telling you to go **** yourself!

Do you see me now, huh? Am I what you expected?
That "woof *****" who by being himself got himself rejected?
Why can't you appreciate others man, and stop being your lack of brains' slave
And give this **** up before I contemplate digging your grave
Yeah, see what I mean? I'm just gonna keep turning it into content. You seem hell-bent on making me successful, and giving me more to write about.... as one poet to another, thanks! XD
 May 2018
Viseract
I'm a poet, beatboxer,
Gamer, Expert procrastinator
Hated
Loved
But not loved by you apparently.

You
Who sits behind the screen like a little *****,
Makes your profile private
So I can't respond to things like
"Exactly what I'd expect a 16 year old little ***** to say"
You only make me mad by your nature
Probably a 50 year-old ******* and troll
Who gets off by taunting younger ones
Because he's too much of a **** to pick on someone
His own size and age,
Having no friends or relatives that love him
Nobody that respects the ******* he is
Probably does drugs
Dropped out of school the year he learnt the word "****"
Didn't follow much of a lifestyle
Blew kids off for twenty bucks
I mean, money is money
Shares his mothers basement with twelve cousins,
Male and female,
That he ***** on the daily
The only action he really gets
And when they aren't there
Climbs out of his trollhole
To **** with the wrong people

They call me Phoenix
Because I roast beats
And pedophiles
Like yourselves

You got a reaction
Question is,
Was it what you expected?
I just laughed when I saw the hate
 May 2018
Petrichor
I never saw a man who looked
with such a wistful eye
upon that little tent of blue
which prisoners called the sky,
and at every drifting cloud that went
with sails of sliver by.

I walked, with other souls in pain,
within another ring,
and was wondering if the man had done
a great or a little thing,
when a voice behind me said,
"The man's got to swing"

For he did not wear scarlet
nor did he speak of it,
for blood and wine were red
and so was the color on his bed.

He looked upon the garish day
with such a wistful eye;
the man had killed the thing he loved,
and so he had to die.
Inspired by OSCAR WILDE
 May 2018
Jack
“please be naked”

she stands in her doorway wearing just a gown,
I walk in the house, dumbstruck by beauty,
up in her room undoing the bow, the shield simply slides down
caressing her curves, stroking down to the floor,
intertwined bodies craving the touch of the other,
joined as one in the gentle acts of love and lust,
romanticised ideals of perfection and soft rhythm,
delicate groans as two become one,
the broken poet, for the moment, is gone,
my drug addiction of you, just wanting more,
As my heart bleeds, love begins to pour.

“please be naked”.
this poem is influenced by The 1975 instrumental song "please be naked". i regularly think of this song as romanticising the act of *** and the trust required with it rather than what most songs make it today. despite having no lyrics the song speaks volumes to me and id definitely recommend it to anyone. stay safe and live well. JY x
 May 2018
Francie Lynch
I'm ******* with Robert Frost
And the guy who wrote Paradise Lost.
I ain't happy with Aristotle,
And especially John, the weird Apostle.
Don't mention, please, Shelley or Keats,
Blake, Byron or Yeats;
Each and every one you see,
(if you're ready for some truth)
Took their themes from me.

Don't look aghast,
Don't tsk and titter,
Their thievery's left me
Mean and bitter.

Just because they said it first,
Doesn't mean I find it just.
It doesn't give them ownership
Of my themes and authorship.
I write of Roads, Good and Evil,
God and Satan, love and leaving.
I know I'm internally bleating,
But I can't abide this metric beating.

Although they're merely dust and bones,
They don't have the right to own
All the great lines I have sown:
The best laid plans of mice and men.
(I said that before Robbie Burns).

Let me make this poeticaly clear;
If I was there, or he were here,
I'd sue the *** of Will Shakespeare
.
 May 2018
Francie Lynch
A House of Cards
Should only have
Two Jokers...
Right?
 Apr 2018
Francie Lynch
Four you already know,
But I can't, I won't,
Put them in writing... allegedly.
The Fifth is my favorite.
Adrift on the Bering Strait,
On an ice flow,
Followed by habitat strained
Polar Bears.
(We'll give him an oar)
Upon landing on the opposite shore,
To be met
By a voracious, ferocious,
And *******,
Russian bear.
Five is probably too low a number.
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