Some smoke grass
Some cut grass, they love to mow the lawn
Some play in grass
Some spread a blanket on the grass
And sleep in the sun –
What a waste of grass.

When I see grass, I touch it
I stroke it, tickle it, sniff it, blow it gently
Then I grab it, clutch it with my full fist
And pull it hard until she cries

Then slowly I part it
And slide my snakes into
The deep dark pool of thirst
Lurking beneath your moist grass
Like a longing craving for primeval release
Grass makes me high, so high
So fucking high…

When I see the grass
I shall pass over you
And plant my seed.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.