By: Shaun McGehan
Title By: Jade Nelson
Twas the Night Be-Four-Twenty
Twas the night be-four-twenty, when all through the land,
each stoner was stirring, a toke in each hand.
The pipes were cleaned with liquor and heat;
the joints each rolled all tidy and neat.
The students each nestled green buds in their bowls;
while libertarian hopes for freedom leapt in their souls.
And Pops with his vaporizer, and I with my bong,
had just settled down for a long Floyd song
When there on the news there arose such a matter,
the tokers were springing to unite in the clatter.
And to the commotion, I flew like a flash;
to share in the pipe, to pass ‘round the hash.
The smoke on the air was but the first to grow,
shrouding the crowd no view of the show.
When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
but a great black figure, a cop, bringing fear.
In a bold faced motion, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment that it was no trick,
more strains than the stoners his hands let loose;
so many options to meander, to wonder, to choose.
Diesels, and Durbans, and Hazes of sativas
Kush’s, and Skunks, and Widowed Romulan indicas
To the pipes and the papers, any kind of bowl!
Now smoke! Smoke away! Smoke away with it all!
As forests burn billows on a bright windy night,
when smoke clouds mold to erase Luna’s firm light;
so up past the treetops the stoners exhaled,
with their lungs full of joy, and their secret unveiled.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the street,
the prancing and pawing, of each on their feet.
As I drew in my hit, and was turning around,
down the walkway politicians came with a bound.
They all dressed up in suits, from their head to their feet,
their smiles all stoked that the bandwagon is complete.
For now they can venture to politic for peace,
and their souls like a feather inhale, then release.
Their eyes, how they twinkled! Their dimples how merry!
Their breath held like children; passing ‘round the cherry.
Their droll little mouths did draw up in a bow,
signaling the masses, prohibition cannot grow.
United, each held a pipe tight in their teeth,
with the smoke encircling the crowd like a wreath.
And together we stood, our priorities all set,
turning faces to Washington; each laid their bet.
The Agencies all chubby and plump from our pain,
it’s hard not to laugh, watching them clamour in vain.
For the Executive blinked and twisted his head,
signaling to us all, we have nothing to dread.
They spoke very few words, but we went straight to work,
we will fill all the coffers, then turn with a jerk.
From Colorado, and Washington hear us now
the change is coming, prohibitions end we vow.
At last we sprang, uniting to sound the whistle,
to the world we disperse, like smoke from a thistle.
So on this holiday we’ve now grown out of sight,
Happy Four Twenty to all, and to all a good night.