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Francie Lynch Jun 25
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 'n 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."
Pot becomes legal in Canada on October 17th. We're permitted to grow four plants per household. Finally.
A "Timmy" is a Tim Hortons coffee.
Francie Lynch Aug 18
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 'n 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 now where we can cop some,
Come this 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.
You can now see it on YouTube. Join Canada in celebrating the legalization and privatization of Maryjane. A Timmy is a Tim Horton's coffee.
Matt Shade May 2017
Beware,
and be serious
if you're growing
curious-
for here on the grass
is where fear
will throw ego
up liberty's ass
as world and mind
are redefined by
patterns winding
through your view
of this strange play
where body
dries up into dust
and blows away.
While it may seem
a twisted daydream,
all will soon return
to grey.
She Writes Sep 6
We laid in the grass
In the park by the school
Listening to the music
And the laughter from our friends
As the tears rolled down my face
All I could think was
How lovely it would be
To be in your arms
Instead of under them
I wrote this years ago... I’ve been dusting off some old journals ❤️
duncan Jul 21
i told the girls at work about
time spent with jane.
they seemed awfully excited
for me.
maybe they could smell
that jane is new,
but familiar

like a car bought
used. she is barely driven
though. i still drive over
the skids i left from
trying to stop
too quick. you can see
my tread worn out like
sanded wood.

or maybe they could
smell the hope like dew on
the morning grass.
fresh but dangerous.
waiting
to trip me with my eyes
set ahead but not infront.
theyll leave the wire
right where they
got me the last time.

it would be an honor
to be fooled
by something so sweet
to the touch. it almost feels
alien
to not be so upset
by the way the weather
dictates my evenings.

i do not FEEL like i used to.
my love and guilt
helix and weave like code.

i would only kiss you now,
if it brought back the one i poisoned.

i live in a farm upstate now
like a dead house dog.
if ive really moved on
know that i did the impossible
we'll be better off for it.

and if things never work out with
jane, you best pray
someone loves me when im dead
cause they sure as hell
dont love me
now.
Al Oct 4
The rain rattled
upon the rusted
wheelbarrow.

Her old skipping rope begins to spin.  Lyrics taste sweet, soaking up youth, dancing with imagination, agile once again, she is the grass that sways.
sunprincess Jul 25
When one thousand years has passed us by,
I hope mother earth is still beautiful
And there's fruit trees and grass so green,
And fresh air to breathe that's clean

There's animals alive of every variety,
fireflies, ladybugs, and honeybees
I hope there's an amazing blue sky,
with songbirds together flying so high

And I hope most of all flowers still grow,
and there's a winter with falling snow
A horror movie scene as the heroine escapes.
Everything is still besides her convalescing breaths and the distant, chasing wind.
Not a noise is heard, except the fall leave's rattle and the birch wood's moaning bark in the moonlight.
Her body slouches into the protection of a shed and shrouds itself in the aroma of cut grass.
A tense brow relieves and tired eyes close, able to accept a momentary peace.

A possible misstep now turns this peace on end with the sharpness of broken leaves. The once relieved brow beckons their wild eyes towards an opaque barricade.
Sly pieces of garden equipment leash her weathered jacket in place as she attempts to stand.
A cackle is heard, a shriek undone.
To spite the brittle wood, that formulaic jump-scare-skeleton-hand bursts through the shed's solicitous walls, set to declare the last of a weary soul as his own.
The wind catches up and spearheads any hole it can find.
It begins whistling around the dim room like a tornado elated to havoc behind a castle's walls.
The tree bark howls, the leaves, now delight.
We learn there is no reprieve for a begging champion.
The camera backs out of the splintered hole and pans over a sated forest to face the waning moon.
The hero succumbs with muted screams to a gore far below and out of frame.
The only closure, a black screen, with bright white letters, slowly scrolling up.


The end.
Just something I had fun writing, figured not posting it would be a waste despite it not being "poetry", just an experiment I guess. I feel like it would be good, in like, a high-school, short story competition. lmfao.
JK Cabresos May 2015
We were lying down on the grass,
watching the beauty of the sky;
she had her eyes on the stars,
but I had my eyes on my world.
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