Bubba Kush and lemon haze
All these flavors I wanna blaze
Pass the grinder and my tray
Wake and bake to start the day
Sour diesel and blue dream
A hybrid makes a good team
These two strains are so harmonic
Now let’s sit and burn the chronic
Grandaddy purp and wedding cake
Puff puff pass for my own sake
Ride the high ‘cause I need a break
Munchies! Time for a chocolate shake
Maui Wowie and cotton candy kush
Spark that baby up and light that bush
It doesn’t even matter what strain
The green goddess hides the pain
Yes we love you Mary Jane
As you flow right through my veins
“But she’s not good for your brain”
Ignorant people are such a drain
Inhale, exhale, drop the ash
Even when the weed is trash
It doesn’t hurt to keep a stash
The only green as good as cash
Easter Eggs and Tulips
Grandaddy was a quiet soul, born in 88 on a spring day.
He often stopped to graze his sheep, on the lush green grass shoots in May
found at my grandmother’s old house, where she played with dollys and jacks.
Knowledgable gardener by trade, he grew crops and purple lilacs
catching a beautiful maid’s eye, some 20 years older was he,
and yet from his earliest glance, he was steadfast to his Corrie.
He planted stately green magnolias, bordering the road and our land,
growing his own pipe tobacco, his battle with bamboo most grand
exotics brought from the Great War, in France’s trenches he sat long
wondering if he’d make it home, the mustard gas a near swan song.
I have childhood recollections, of you digging in the dirt bed
planting Avignon tulip bulbs, silky pedals flowering red
bursting freely with Easter Eggs, cleverly hidden from our sight
by gentle liver-spotted hands, unfurling them with slow delight.
You left us when I was but nine, my memories are vague shadows,
dreams of you with a spade in hand, smelling sweetly of pipe tobacco.
Night Light
the whole world is blue
the full moon bathes everything
vision quest tonite
GINSU-KNIFE EASTPORT , MAINE USA
Nothing like a northern winter full moon.
The clean snow is a clean canvas for it all.
Grandaddy used to go outside and read the paper.
He said it saved on lamp oil.
Between the bullies, and beatings
It left me full retreating
Into madness of mind
And sadness in kind
Revenge and rage, became fully engaged
They hazed, I phased, the boy became enraged
The monster, the madman, Grandaddy BAD I became
From that day on, I was never the same
God became a memory, because he had forsaken me
No one in the world would be mistaking me
For a sucker, if I had to suffer than all would suffer
Soft is for sissies, they would meet no one rougher
I was to conquer and be feared
No one would come near
They didn't listen to the whispers
So they had to face the leers
My baptism a regret, the holy ghost i'd forget
Never again would I relent, GBAD was a Devil sent
The fury within, that was buried within
Unleashed unto the planet, didn't worry about sin
Humanity would pay the cost, no matter what I lost
I finally was in control. The Big Man. The Boss.
I always knew hip hop was never a fad
Hip hop helped create Grandaddy Bad
The beat hits my soul, and I lose all control
The lyrics start to roll, the energy takes a toll
Cause I gotta spit, keep it legit and real
I will never forget the rhymes appeal
Its not something you can steal, its born from heart
Knowing from the start, not just a poem but art
I will keep kickin it, till I can't speak no more
Lyrically lickin it, till I creak like doors
Give me a beat, a mic and a stage to engage
Use the platform beyond norm and perform like im caged
I want hands in the air, pumped fists just like this
No need for a care, once there, keep em there
Hip hop is a spirit, and once ya hear it
If you fear it, you should never come near it
granddaddy longleg
watching me just out of reach
then it just moves on
Cold winds from the valley of the shadow of death
creep down the nape of my neck like grandaddy longlegs.
Yes the
wheel still turns,
and we feel the bite
....another time
and yet we might,
repay the debt of
old....
Great Grandaddy had
a sister sure,
who was my wifes'
Ancestor,
did time together,
children bore,
and the dice was
surely rolled,
perhaps we have to
do our time,
with mismatched
partners in the
crime,
the balance stick
begins to chime,
times up, a bell is
tolled?
The dice is surely
rolled,
chance meeting's
surely gold,
the hungry eyes seek
2 enfold,
wheel a turning for
the soul,
the next event is
waiting,
still waiting 2
behold...
Don Johnson
I pulled out the couch and wrenched my back;
the dust bunnies gave me a heart attack.
A clan of arachnids under my sink
spin a web big as a skating rink.
I bend to take a peek under the bed;
a thick sheet of dustiness fills me with dread.
Grandaddy Longlegs travels the floor
to build his cobweb home near the door.
When I open the windows to let in fresh air
A dustball tornado blows everywhere.
Think I'll go for a walk to adjust
and try to ignore all the cobwebs and dust.
written March 21st, 2012
Theme is Cobwebs and Dust
coffee best describes
papa joe's essence for me
coffee kisses- YES
fertilizer stink
paternal grandaddy smell
famous tomatoes
noxzema only
for miss toby before bed
shakey hands slicked up
but then grandmama
whew! peach cobbler first of all
sweet corn, pot roast, ham
oh man, those fried pies
blackberry and peach goodness
beautiful mem'ry
He wasn't a shy man,
nor was he quiet.
He never met a stranger,
aways a kind word said.
He was a joker too,
his blue eyes twinkled
with perpetual laughter.
On his lips,
a quirky song he'd share.
I miss him so,
sitting in his favorite chair
and how he called me his little angel.
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