agito , poem inspired by northern lights
Agito is his name , and 600 watts are his game
he grows with no shame , his kush ryder he will tame.
He is an autoflower master , a mechanical rasta
he does many good jobs around the house, except when it involves plaster.
His avatar is rare , and so is his evil stare
he is a grower with good intentions , with great tent dimensions.
his garden looks clean , for some this is a dream
when i stare into the beam , i just want to cream.
for a robot like agito , it is hard for him to eat
considering for his favourite food tends to be meat.
As he kisses his plants , he is touching his pants
for some they would think , in there he has ants.
cheese on toast in the morning , and the same at night
agito likes to get high and fly his own kite.
he has pancakes in his hair , so growers beware
this happy grower just does not seem to care.
im taking this too far, as my buds cure in a mason jar
he stays up late in the bar , not shooting heroin black tar.
to go home he transforms into a car, the journey is not far.
but he makes it with speed, to get back to his wonderfull weed.
he sows another seed , and does the good deed
he turns into a cowboy and rides hard his high steed.
agito is a robot for he does not bleed, when i see your garden i turn green with greed.
if there is one thing i need, it shalt be some weed.
agitos mechanical nipples go hard in the cold
his tight buds are resistant to mould.
he grows many strains, to cure many pains
as he is a robot he rusts when it rains.
over your poetry my friend.
