Marijuana.com

dedbr

Shameless Bump!

Thought some of you would like to add to this........or maybe not. Enjoy...


Some Where In Ded Land..............

__________________
Sometimes The Monkey Just Has To Roll The Football....

New to our home? A lot of questions can be answered with our Posting Guidelines ........ http://www.marijuana.com/introductio...uidelines.html
What's a gram? Read our Gram Guidelines and find out...........http://www.marijuana.com/add-article/77170-marijuana-grams-system.html

 

dedbr

I don't know why I started a new thread......

How about it? can you write a short story, are you a poet......give us some of your best........


Some Where In Ded Land..............

princesswahoo

very attention grabbing, pulls u right n2 it. nice.

dedbr

What about the "Ode To Weed"? Has anyone read thru some of our writings here? There are some really good reads in here, and someone started a thread the other day asking,"Do you ever read old threads?". Here's the spot folks, our Creative writing forum.......

I bet you all didn't know half the stuff that's in here, so since the "Ode" is open for anybody to add to, I will make all future submissions part of the contest.

That's a good way to pick up some easy grams, so let's hear it from ya all....

Show 'em how we roll........


Some Where In Ded Land................

neconide

[quote=rbded;313308]In the days of old,
The Pols' got bold'
And came up with an idea.
We see no need,they cried,
For the demon weed,
So when you toke up,
You'll have to go and hide.

Things are changin'
and lookin' better,
The laws are fallin',
And we can get a doctors letter,
That says we need,
A big joint of weed,
Not to get high,oh no,
Just so we can get by.

You can't, you can't,
Weeds not just a plant,
All the cops do say,
Even though you're sick
No smoking that stick,
Or exposing no plants to the sky.

Now we see,
That it's not about weed,
But about that almighty dollar,
My stuff they seize,
And don't say please,
Even though it makes me holler.

So in to court we go,
To see the big show,
And ask him if it's alright.
You can't, you can't,
It's not just a plant,
And then he slaps his little hammer.
You are evil,he say,
And breaking the law don't pay,
That is unless you get a good seizure.

So now I sit,
Here on my hip,
With not a blade to smoke,
The cops came, you see,
And took it away from me,
Now all I can do is give them lip.

But wait a bit,
Thats a friend I see,
Coming up the drive,
He'll have for me,
A bong hit to fry,
And then I'll feel better.

So you see my friends,
It never ends,
This circle we have made,
lets all get high,
And stick it in their eye,
Then maybe a poor old head can get by.[/quote[

excellent. I loved it

 

KingTubby

Fantastic man! Really creative.
And your right, it is just a cycle.

They can't keep us down for long!

dedbr

Kelly White one of our first and our best.....

" I stand beneath the four clean winds, my skin bare to the sun, and look over the land of my birth, I feel the end has begun.
She roils and screams in torment, she wails in the agony of birth, the dark of ages intolerance, moves back before the rising sun, hides in shadows of darkling souls, away from freedoms girth.

It pains our Mother, this last battle, the move toward sane human life, but necessary I deem, this last large era of strife.
Forces there be, who wish it not, prefering the power of sword, the control of persons, both living now, and persons yet to be born.
And yet, the sacred herb, she grows so tall, and all guns have brought no end, I smoke her in pride, as my Gods allow, and will unto my end.

As I turn away, from the prairies gold, and look to mountains high, my vision does slowly enfold, and tears drip from my eye, perhaps I will not see this end, this birth of something new, yet to this beginning my efforts bend, to keep my freedom true.

Never again, will I willingly lay, the yoke of slavery about my neck.
My Gods have spoken in quiet thought, deny the thoughts of men, slavery by chain, by thought or word, spoken in demeaning tone, is slavery of the most precious, the cowing of ones soul.

Sweet smoke of ganja, and my vision clears, my eyes they dry in winds of change, I have lost so many, of slaveries fears, not believing of their moral sins.

Hold not to the belief, that what we do be wrong, far better to wrap your arms about the strength that is our own.

Their are many who judge me, and place me in boxes of simple confine, no addict, no derelict, no, not I, though marijuana smoker be true. How better to seed my quiet vision, of Man straight and true, willing to give, respect and tolerance, than all them the dark eschew.

I stand beneath the four clean winds, and happiness gentles my rage, for change is coming, as it always will,
freedoms birth, lasting, I see her now, spreading about this world, long the road, and many the page, yet her birth it is in the final stage!