There is nothing fantastic or ultradimansional about crab grass... unless you are an sf writer, in which case pretty soon you are viewing crab grass with suspicion. What are it's real motives And who sent it here in the first place It only looks like crab grass. That's what they want us to think it is. One day the crab grass suit will fall off and their true identity will be revealed. By then the Pentagon will be full of crab grass and it'll be too late. The crab grass, or what we took to be crab grass, will dictate terms.
quote by Philip K. Dick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Crab
Whether it's Crab soup,
or whether it's crab cakes,
whether it's crab puffs
or whether it's crab flakes
crab gumbo or crab dressing,
it's all the same to me,
for crab is crab is crab
and I detest the taste.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Manteca
Written by dizzy gillespie and gil fuller
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grinning Crab
Come with me, said the fish to the crab
and I will show you a cave where beautiful coral live.
When do we leave, said the crab to the fish
and tell me what I should bring.
Just bring a sense of adventure, said the fish to the crab, and some sun tan oil
You forget, said the crab to the fish, my shell is thick and impenetrable by rays of any kind.
What about the metal-tipped arrows, asked the fish of the crab, from a cheeky cherub?
Oh they don’t stand a chance, said the crab with a grin.
The fish, having eyes that could not blink, felt the molten tears sting his star-crossed eyes.
poem by Vernon Adrian Emuang
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Big sisters are the crab grass in the lawn of life.
quote by Charles M. Schulz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sand crab follows Hot
Chilli crab he knows, beaut
like the tide, shore thing
haiku by Ken e Hall
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Walk straight, my son - as the old crab said to the young crab.
The Little Crab
As the little crab climbed
To the top of the basket
Hoping to make an escape
The bigger crabs pulled him down
And when the consignment
Did reach the market place
The Fisherman’s son was delighted
To find a small crab in the bag
He picked it up carefully
Drooling at the thought of soup
But this time the little crab
Reacted fast, he bit the boy’s hand
Falling quickly to the ground
As the child reduced his grip
Undaunted by the crack in his shell
He scuttled away in search of
A safer place, far away from
Fishing baskets, boys and big crabs.
poem by Sandra Martyres
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Green Circle
You are peeling me off
like a crab.
Time has sunk very low.
For the hungry kids
who was growing crab apples?
Creating art,
arriving between the pubes.
A microfossil
roosting within me.
I could live without oxygen.
Incandescent,
the liquid wounds.
I will not send any salvo.
poem by Satish Verma
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The New Teacher
he prides himself about
this job
where he is all wise
and his students listen
he drives the points
like he's the hammer to
his nails
somehow the old teacher
listens
it is not supposed to
be
he picks a snail
a house actually where the hermit
crab lives
he whistles and the crab comes
out
learning the song of the
master
the wind, soft as breeze
the openness like the wide gate
of the morning sun
between the breasts of the hills
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poet Of Ignorance
Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know.
Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.
There is an animal inside me,
clutiching fast to my heart,
a huge carb.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses adn the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook the broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.
I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to believe in dreams?
Anonymous submission.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Ejection, Injection!
An injection,
I can help you with my love;
Ejection, injection!
The crab man,
The crab woman;
Rejection, injection!
The wolf man,
The wolf woman;
To see eye to eye.
Love can give life a whole new meaning!
So, keep on waiting on my love;
For, i can help you with my love.
Math, bath!
True love is very precious than money;
And, i can help you with my love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Mower's Song
My Mind was once the true survey
Of all these Medows fresh and gay;
And in the greenness of the Grass
Did see its Hopes as in a Glass;
When Juliana came, and she
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But these, while I with Sorrow pine,
Grew more luxuriant still and fine;
That not one Blade of Grass you spy'd,
But had a Flower on either side;
When Juliana came, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
Unthankful Meadows, could you so
A fellowship so true forego,
And in your gawdy May-games meet,
While I lay trodden under feet?
When Juliana came , and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But what you in Compassion ought,
Shall now by my Revenge be wrought:
And Flow'rs, and Grass, and I and all,
Will in one common Ruine fall.
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
And thus, ye Meadows, which have been
Companions of my thoughts more green,
Shall now the Heraldry become
With which I shall adorn my Tomb;
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
poem by Andrew Marvell
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Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hermit Crab
The hermit crabs life is all but exciting live all alone
and in the sahdows in the bottom of the teary sea
feelings no comfort and no love this crab is all alone
no friends and allways hurting everyone
he use to have friends till the day he found him self this shell of dark sleeping alone
and being alone this crab used that bad to fell worse
we the other crabs of life the ones that live a full happy life
need to find him/her and bring this hermit out of it's shell
show to the hermit that talking isn't all bad
but being alone is talk about your problems dont hide in a shell
September Grass
Well, the suns not so hot in the sky today
And you know I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese are gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed
So Ill be king and youll be queen
Our kingdoms gonna be this little patch of green
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh the memory is like the sweetest pain
Yeah, I kissed the girl at a football game
I can still smell the sweat and the grass stains
We walked home together. I was never the same.
But that was a long time ago
And where is she now? I dont know
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down with me now
September grass
Oh, september grass is the sweetest kind
It goes down easy like apple wine
Hope you dont mind if I pour you some
Made that much sweeter by the winter to come
Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know? thats you and me, baby
Were so small and the worlds so vast
We found each other down in the grass
Wont you lie down with me right here
September grass
Wont you lie down with me now
In this september grass
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
Lie down
(repeat)
Wont you lie down here right now
In this september grass
Wont you lie down here now
In this september grass
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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More Visual Than Not
Remember this...
When you decided,
To silence your lips.
Believing problems others had...
Were not yours to exist.
And you pointed your fingers,
With judgements passed?
While your assets dwindled.
As those 'others' you trashed!
Your opinion now expressed...
Has less influence than your crab grass.
Or the effective use of a lawn mower,
When it was needed.
To do a job now long ignored!
It is better left to collect cobwebs and dust.
Instead of making meaningless threats...
No one within hearing distance takes seriously.
Since the evidence becomes more visual than not!
And apparently someone has spent too much time sleeping.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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After Rain
The rain of a night and a day and a night
Stops at the light
Of this pale choked day. The peering sun
Sees what has been done.
The road under the trees has a border new
of purple hue
Inside the border of bright thin grass:
For all that has
Been left by November of leaves is torn
From hazel and thorn
And the greater trees. Throughout the copse
No dead leaf drops
On grey grass, green moss, burnt-orange fern,
At the wind's return:
The leaflets out of the ash-tree shed
Are thinly spread
In the road, like little black fish, inlaid,
As if they played.
What hangs from the myriad branches down there
So hard and bare
Is twelve yellow apples lovely to see
On one crab-tree.
And on each twig of every tree in the dell
Uncountable
Crystals both dark and bright of the the rain
That begins again.
poem by Edward Thomas
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The Grass Smells Red
The grass smells red.
Untill these mortal bounds find thier way into the catostrophic fire's of love and redemption, the grass will smell red.
The grass tells a story of wars unsung and battles lost.
The grass tells a story of love gained and a fury found again.
The grass smells red...but does it speak?
Does it's voice ring out like the bells in a steeple?
Does it feel the pain of those who died?
Did it hear the screams?
The grass smells red and it grow's red.
It feels red.
This grass will die red.
poem by Troy Nichols
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